On Wings
by JadeWing
Summary: “A pawn’s place is on the chessboard until it’s captured, or the game is over.” Visions call a reluctant Hitomi to Gaea once more, only to find something drawing former companions back as well: Atlantis calls for its own. VH? Perhaps.
1. Wings of Vision

On Wings  
Chapter One: Wings of Vision

_Many years ago--thousands upon thousands, to be true--the children of the gods dwelt in a city known as Atlantis. They were truly a marvelous people: wise, courageous, and powerful. However, they were only the children of gods, not gods themselves, and though they had strengths, their weaknesses led to their downfall. For they were wise but passionate, courageous but rash, and powerful but proud. Their pride was the greatest contribution to the fall of Atlantis, but passion and rashness played their own parts as well.I don't see what this has to do with--Silence, child! the old woman snapped. All in good time. You cannot see the sky in a single star, and a tale is the very same. Now, if I may continue? A nod. Very well. The Atlanteans had devised means by which to live in palaces, keep their health, and even change their bodies to please themselves. It became first law, then an inborn trait, to have wings. And that was but one way in which they pushed the limits of nature. However, not all Atlanteans were blind to what was happening, and some thought they were testing the patience of the gods too much. Others thought that too much power had been allowed into their hands. Slow, secret fear took root in the hearts of a few as they watched more control be wrested from nature and the gods._

One such person was the daughter of the King of Atlantis, Princess Aiyeth. Descended from the goddess of truth, justice, and prophecy, she saw many omens that Atlantis was slowly and steadily reeling out of control. Her dreams were plagued with nightmares of fire and destruction raining from the sky.

There was a snort.

Yes, what others dismissed as nightmares she knew to be visions, portents--warnings from higher powers. Her father, too busy to pay too much heed to his teenage daughter's ill dreams, merely assigned her a guard thinking extra security would soothe whatever fears from which the dreams came. Rather, the presence of the guard, a young man known as Tiore, merely frustrated Princess Aiyeth. He seemed to scorn her and her omens, and was no more than a nuisance to her. Indeed, to him it was just as much an irritating dilemma--for what guard would be called on to babysit a princess with bad dreams? Dislike swiftly bred between them.Hush, child. All in good time.

...:...

Kanzaki Hitomi knew, somewhere deep, deep down, that there was a reason _she_ had visions, as opposed to someone such as Yukari or another classmate. For one thing, not everyone would be able to handle the kind of rapid-fire oracular onslaught she'd been barraged with on Gaea, particularly when most premonitions were of the sort of things that drew the line between an R rating and an NC-17. She'd barely made it through the war with her sanity as it was.

And it wasn't that she wished for someone _else_ to shoulder the burden and make some lucky therapist very, very rich from the ensuing chain of mental breakdowns they were practically guaranteed. No, if someone had to shoulder the burden, it had to be her.

It was moments like this, though, that shook her resolve. Though decreasing in frequency, the visions had followed her back to Earth. This was probably through the wisdom and grace of some cruel deity who decided that since she and Van were keeping in touch, Hitomi could still serve her purpose as Prophet of Impending Doom, even if it was at long distance. Raging wildfires in Fanelia's forests? Bandits raiding a village? Rabid Land Dragon terrorizing the innocent? She saw it all in advance, got word to Van, and paid for an extra shot of espresso to compensate for the sleep loss. At least the visions only came while she slept instead of bowling her over at random, with distinct differences between a simple dream and one of the prophetic dreams--everything was clear, and even if she tried to wake up, she couldn't until it was over.

Some of the visions, however, were so bad that once she awoke, she couldn't go back to sleep. Particularly cryptic ones. The visions came in the straightforward this-is-the-unaltered-future type, or in the strange, disturbing, symbolically puzzling kind. More often than not, the second type of vision made little to no sense and involved brutal things happening to people she knew, so naturally, she disliked them the most. And judging by the red sky, blood rain, and raging fires she was seeing now, this was going to be a lovely, enigmatic, gory mess of a vision.

Hitomi saw herself a year and a half younger, swinging the pendant, red dripping onto her shoulders and staining the uniform first pink, then crimson. Her younger self kept swinging the pendant, searching for something in the barren, burning landscape, as flames crackled closer. Then the pendant slipped from her grasp and flew into the sky, the ground shattering under her feet. Suddenly Hitomi _was_ her younger self, falling, hands outstretched towards the stars that were bare pinpricks of fire in a blood-hued sky. This was the part where Van flew down and caught her--but the sky had been blue then, not red--she twisted in midair and found him falling beside her, unconscious, battered, and just out of her desperate reach. Van, wake up! she cried, noting the darkness growing deeper. The pendant was now around his neck, but it remained dull and useless. Wake up!  
Hitomi managed to seize a wrist flaking with dried blood, but couldn't find a pulse. Somehow she knew she wouldn't find one. They continued to plummet, slowly fading into the darkness.

Fear raced through her veins as she screamed in vain, _Wake up!_

Then wake up she did, sitting up with a shrieking gasp in her bead. For a moment the world reeled and she couldn't find her balance--then she realized her house was shaking, dust and grit falling onto her bed. Hitomi blindly grabbed for something solid and braced herself on the bedposts, waiting for the shuddering to stop. After about ten seconds, the house fell silent again.

_Another earthquake,_ she thought with disgust._ They're getting closer together too, which doesn't point to good things at all. _She noted with even more disgust that it was a full half an hour before she was supposed to wake up. There was no helping it and no way to return to sleep, not after a vision _and_ an earthquake. Grumbling to herself, she staggered to her feet and started getting dressed.

A glowing white feather drifted in the window, floating down to her desk. She sighed, finished buttoning her uniform's blouse, and put a hand on the feather. _Yes, Van?Are you all right?_ He was trying to keep worry out of his voice and meeting with little success. __

I'm fine, why?I--I don't know. Now he sounded just embarrassed. _I... had this weird dream, and then when I woke up there was this feeling something was wrong on the Mystic Moon..._

Occasionally they both got a vision; perhaps a side effect of their communication link between worlds, or something else was at play; either way, Hitomi had no way of knowing and thus no reason to care. _Blood rain, falling, and so on?In so many words, yes.Just another one of those symbolic visions, I think. There was an earthquake when I woke up, but we've been having a lot of those.An earthquake?_ he demanded, alarmed. _Hitomi, that sounds dangerous--I know, but I can't exactly make them stop. Anyway, I'm fine, you know what the vision was, and I've got school to go to. I'll talk to you later.Take care,_ Van said in one of his very distinct Tones. This one happened to mean I am very, very afraid for you and think you're doing the wrong thing or not taking this seriously enough, but I won't say so to your face... so come live on Gaea.  
Some days it seemed like a better idea than others. A year and a half had passed, and she and Van had danced around the issue with all the grace of toddlers attempting a waltz whenever they'd communicated mind-to-mind, but it still hung over them like the moon--clearer at some times than at others, but always there.

The fact was that she wasn't even seventeen yet, and she _was_ the girl from the Mystic Moon. Neither of them were stupid, and they both knew it'd take a lot of spin to make even a passing association look good to the people of Fanelia. When their king was the son of a cursed woman, the last thing they needed was him to so much as look funny at a girl from the Mystic Moon.

Moreover, she had a family and friends on Earth, not to mention the relatively normal life that everyone else had in front of them. What would her high school reunion be like should she go and live on Gaea? _Me? I moved to this planet you can't see, and I watch from the sidelines as the man I love rules his kingdom--yeah, he's a king--and keeps himself open for a political marriage, all the while ducking obsessive cat girls, knights with an uncanny resemblance to Amano-sempai, greasy but noble merchants, and the stray dragon or twelve. How'd that accounting business work out for you?_ She snorted derisively--not because it was absurd, but because it sounded eerily accurate.

Tugging at the last knee sock, Hitomi all but crawled downstairs, her head still stiff and groggy but too restless, now that it was awake, to settle down and let her catch up on her sleep. Her mother was already in the kitchen and snapping some kind of plastic case shut as Hitomi walked in. Morning, Mama.Morning, Hitomi. Her mother pulled out a marker and started writing on the top of one of the cases, then moved to another. These are earthquake kits. I want you to put this one-- she tapped the one that now said Hitomi' on the top --in your room. There are a couple bottles of distilled water, some emergency food, a blanket, a first aid kit, a flashlight, matches, and so on. If we have another earthquake you can grab this in case we get separated.

Her mother was deliberately not voicing what people were coming to realize and her entire family was aware of: the earthquakes, rather than decreasing in intensity, were increasing. That meant to biggest one had to come soon, and when it did, they didn't know how much of their house would be left. Hitomi had heard her parents talking about it, and had discreetly been packing up her own belongings. They didn't have the funds for a full-out move right now, but there was a chance they'd relocate to a hotel somewhere off the mainland until the big one had hit; others in their neighborhood had done the same thing already. In the case that they didn't make it out in time, at least they had some sort of emergency provisions.

I'll put this upstairs, she said quietly. Her grip on the box turned white-knuckled as her stocking feet thudded up the staircase; what was the point in sending her cryptic, pointless visions when she could see something much more useful, such as when the earthquake would hit? What made it worse was that this power of visions was hers, but she couldn't figure out for the life of her how to control it. She'd tried meditating, focusing on an event to come, but any resulting vision was fractured, warped, with holes, like an incomplete, badly woven tapestry--and they never made any sense. Simply asking a question didn't do it either. Visions came and went as they pleased, regardless of where and when they came during her sleeping hours, and what they showed.

Someday she'd figure out how to direct this power; this Hitomi knew. Until then, she was stuck with her emergency kits.

...:...

Van Slanzar de Fanel was not, by nature, a patient creature. Years of training in every possible area deemed useful had granted him something akin to patience; rather than true patience, it was merely the ability to suppress frustrations and take them out on some poor, unsuspecting inanimate and relatively worthless object later. Lately, he'd taken to the destruction of dishes. These dishes were chipped, cracked, damaged in some way or another, so he didn't get quite the satisfaction flinging them across a (very isolated and soundproof) room as he would chucking around flawless heirloom chinaware, but he was not one to needlessly waste. The head cook made sure all flawed and useless dishes made their way to him, and no one ever asked where they went.

Merle, of course, found it all very amusing. This was after the initial hysterics fit she had when she'd first found him taking his irritation out on some crates too rotten to even be used for firewood. Once she'd realized he was merely keeping his temper from flying to pieces by reducing other things to splinters, shards, scraps, and so on, her concerns died down. She'd taken to watching his near-vindictive smashing sessions with first grave attention, then curiosity, then something like mirth. She was also starting to detect a pattern. _After_ breaking something very, very badly, Lord Van would tell her about a vision he'd had, think of something, and then go kick something to shreds again.

This morning, as her blue eyes followed dish after dish to its fragmented end, she decided to test out her suspicions. Another talk with Hitomi, Lord Van? Merle asked innocently, tail waving.

_smash_ _ crunch_ _ crash_ he asked, less angrily than she'd suspected. Then again, he was still plowing through dishes.

Well, you didn't have the council yesterday, and nothing big has happened since last night when you were in a decent mood, so obviously something happened no one knows about. And the past few times you've been here, you said something about a vision, but you wouldn't get one and not tell Hitomi. She shrugged. Cat's intuition.

He narrowed his eyes and hurled one final piece of a place into a wall, then walked over, scowling. She's worried about something, but she won't say what. There was an earthquake on the Mystic Moon, and for the first time, I saw _her_ in a vision, but she... doesn't want to talk about it.An earthquake? Merle tilted her head to the side. That's not the first time it's happened, right?  
It's the fifth one this summer... It's summer over there, at least. Van's face was dark. And they're getting closer together.

Merle's tail switched anxiously. She should come stay here until they stop. Seeing Van's face, she added, But you already know that. There was silence, and she made another leap in logic. And Hitomi knows it too.

He nodded slowly. I think so. But she won't leave her family.

At that Merle sighed impatiently. That girl! What do they have that we don't? I bet _she_ doesn't live in a palace.  
It's not that, Merle. The concept of a family was hard to convey to Merle: all she'd really had was Van for most of her life. If we were having earthquakes and I refused to leave the castle, would you go? she said immediately. Of course not. There was a pause. 

Van nodded again. See? And if she really wanted to come back, I think she would have a long time ago.That's not true! protested Merle. You know she's got that school and... track? Besides, you've got the pendant and you've gone to the Mystic Moon before, why don't you now? The question sounded worse once said. Never mind. Of course you can't.

For a moment, Van looked like he wanted to throw some more plates. Then he just sat down on the bench next to her. he muttered. I can't.

If Merle had looked out of the window on the other side of the room, she would have seen the Fanelian capitol spread before her, mostly rebuilt, some of the larger buildings still in stages of reconstruction. This time, though, certain things had been taken into consideration. For one thing, though the cliffs walling in the small nation made it near impossible to invade from any way but walking straight into the city, it also made escape extremely difficult once the front defenses were breached. Moreover, the cliffs restricted vision and daylight. With that in mind, they had begun a project to build fortresses actually _in_ the cliffs, and excavations of evacuation tunnels should they ever be attacked again. At the time of the invasion, most of the nation's population had lived in the capital, with the occasional small village bringing in fish or grain. That had changed. Refugee camps had turned into more villages, for one, but the diminished population was troubling to a king whose people, though it was spring then, would need grain to last the winter.  
The idea that had saved them all had come from that same king. Acres of fields remained unused, providing a crop of naught but weeds, and he had made an offer to refugees in every nation, even the riot-torn Zaibach. The land was theirs, he said, if they agreed to citizenship, got a deed at the capital, then farmed their new lands and turned in a quarter of their produce at harvest time to the nearest village head, to be distributed to those who still needed it. With so much land devastated by war elsewhere, immigrants had practically flooded Fanelia, and now at least half of the nation made their living from the earth--or for those who took to the West, the sea.

Asturia still held the biggest markets for fineries, such as silks, lace, jewelry, tapestries, expensive woods and stones, and so on. Freid still remained a holy land. But Fanelia, once in ruins, was now the largest provider of basic goods--woolen cloth, lumber, produce, and fish. The other nations had assisted in financing the reconstruction of Fanelia, and had received their payment in imported goods for those who had been hit hardest by the war--the common people. Though Daedalus, Cesario, and Basram had swiftly returned to their own countries after the war, distrust still brewed between them--but the trading between Fanelia, Freid, and Asturia was at an all-time high.

It was difficult for anyone to imagine that the country had been turned around by a boy barely sixteen then, and just a few moons over seventeen now. For Merle, it was too much of a reality.

From the moment he had accepted the crown of Fanelia, Van hadn't stopped working. First the war, then the rebuilding--it had been two years since he had had a break, and those closest to him could see it was breaking him. They were lucky that dishes, crates, and other useless things were the only things he took his frustrations out on. He had advisors to tell him what to do, and sufficient means to do most of the things he wanted, but short of Merle, there were few people he could actually talk to. Van had the respect, grudging or wholehearted, of most of his subjects, but the whispers of draconian' still followed in his footsteps, glances shifting towards his shoulders and then swiftly away. Some days he wanted to walk around with his wings on full display, wearing a sign that said, YES, YOUR KING IS A DRACONIAN. DEAL WITH IT. Other days he wanted to fly somewhere only wings could take him, such as the top of the castle's Great Tree, and just hide there.

Merle didn't know--nobody knew but Hitomi--that he'd actually gone to the Mystic Moon. Every full moon, in the dead of night, with Hitomi's help he'd teleport there and they would have a half an hour to talk face-to-face. But for the past few moons even his midnights had been occupied, and dark circles were starting to become a permanent feature under his eyes. He was being worn to the bone keeping the kingdom intact, but he'd die before he gave in.

You haven't talked to her that much, have you? Merle asked softly.

I talk to her every day-- He cut himself off, then continued. --for about thirty seconds. She's busy, I'm busy, and I haven't seen her in five moons.

There was silence as neither could think of a solution, or even anything to say. Eventually Van stood up, heading for the door. Thank you, Merle.For what? She stood up, skipping over, but he was already down the hall. The cat girl crossed her arms with an irritated sigh, frowning. Now _she_ felt like throwing dishes. _It's not fair. They're both making themselves miserable, but they're too glued to their duties to catch their breath, much less see each other. I don't know whose idea this was, but it's a bad one._

...:...

What do you say we get Ishigawa-sensei a charm for car safety? Yukari suggested, holding up a tiny, colorful bag. Their math teacher had gotten in a car accident over the weekend.

Hitomi said absently.

Yukari gave her friend a dirty look. Hitomi had been in a daze all day, making things such as intelligent conversation something of a challenge. Or how about a health charm?Sounds good. Her friend's green eyes were wandering, slightly unfocused. if Yukari didn't know better, she'd suspect substance abuse.

Tell you what, Hitomi, why don't you go make a wish at the shrine? Yukari pressed a five-yen coin into her friend's hand and gave her a little shove. Hitomi's attention returned momentarily, and she nodded, heading for the altar.

Hitomi knew she'd been distracted since she'd woken up, but for some reason that last vision was sticking with her. Something was nudging her focus towards the pendant, too, and that was very unsettling.

Standing in front of the shrine's entrance, facing the altar, she dropped the five-yen coin through the collection box's slats and clapped her hands twice, then bowed. _Please, spirit of the shrine, make my sight clear and guide me._ As an afterthought, she added, _And please watch over my family and I, with these earthquakes. I'm afraid, I really am._

She bowed again, and as she straightened, she thought she caught a gleam of something in the dim interior of the shrine. Intrigued, Hitomi leaned closer.

Yukari ran over. I got a health charm for the sensei, and a love charm for myself... and I got this for you. She dangled another small bag in front of Hitomi's face.

Hitomi promptly snatched it from her friend and glared at it, trying to make it change into something more... innocuous. It didn't work. A _fertility charm?_ she demanded, blushing furiously. Hitomi drew her arm back to throw it far, far away, when Yukari stopped her.

You wouldn't want to offend the spirit of the shrine, would you? she asked sweetly. Throwing away one of its charms like that... You'd never have kids!

Hitomi flushed even brighter, muttered a sullen protest, and stuffed the charm into her gym bag, vowing to cram it into a box, put the box in a box, put that box in a bag, and hide that bag in the deepest, darkest, most desolate corner of her closet she could find. Can we go home now? she asked plaintively.

Sure, sure, lazybones. Yukari slapped her on the back. You did good today, so I'll let you off easy.Thanks, I think. They headed to the train station, bought tickets, and collapsed onto their seats. Hitomi let her head loll backward and closed her eyes, knowing Yukari would wake her up when they reached their stop.

_As you know, it's normal to lose a caravan once or twice a year, a man was saying grimly. After a moment, Hitomi placed the tall figure, truly untidy brown hair, and bristling chin. It wasn't often that Dryden Fassa made it into her visions. Usually it's an overseas shipment, or going through the Tribelands. But I've lost three normal caravans in the past two months here. He jabbed a finger into the map, marking a spot on the uneven southeastern Fanelian border there. The only thing in that area is a canyon and a village of sheep farmers. Unless the people of-- he adjusted his glasses and peered closer --Woolton are more vicious than they are creative with names, something is up.I'll send some men to investigate. That voice she knew instantly. For the first time she saw Van, sitting at the table, looking... exhausted. The lantern light did nothing to help the shadows under his eyes, and... had he lost weight? Hitomi bit her lip._

Don't bother. Dryden sat, studying the map. I filled a fourth caravan to the brim with mercenaries--don't give me that look, I picked them out myself and there's not a pillager, looter, or rapist in the whole lot--and sent it there. It never made it over the border.

That caught Van by surprise. He frowned a little deeper and took a closer look at the map. What's been on these caravans?Mainly scrap metal, leftover parts, so on. One had a couple crates of Energists... Dryden trailed off, putting the pieces together himself.

Asturia is our ally, Van said slowly. Neither of the Queens have any reason to attack--anyone, now that I think of it.

Dryden nodded slowly, then traced the border slowly. The border's formed by a canyon, yes? Van nodded. With a river deep enough to take a boat to?In winter it's too low, but the snow melt and rains make it deep enough through autumn. The canyon makes it too hard to transport much, though.

Dryden continued tracing the border, going further south until his finger came to a rest fifty miles from Woolton and twenty miles from the Asturian border. What use, your Majesty, do you suppose Basram could have for scrap metal and Energists? he asked cordially. Look at all those plains. Must have been a lot of farms before the war. Same with Cesario. Both of them mined as much iron and energists as they could from the land and put citizens into factories to make them build weapons--more than they ended up using. I guess they were counting on winning the war so they could colonize, because those farms are probably falling to pieces now.

Van's face was a mask, a stoic, calm mask, but she saw something flickering in his eyes. Fanelia is not taking on Basram, he said quietly. I will not plunge this country into another war.I'm not asking you to, Dryden said just as calmly. I don't want war myself, it's terrible for my_ business. But I'm not going to mince words, your Majesty: from the looks of it, Basram is arming themselves, and it's not so the boys can play dress-up. They were depending on winning the war and settling where they pleased, and now they have starving people with no farms and no living, but a stockpile that could blow us all away. Today it's caravans, but if I were you, I'd put some guards around dragon graveyards and armories, and be ready yourself. It won't be long before the Basramu army comes a' knocking._

Van looked at Dryden, and there was something in his eyes that sent shivers down Hitomi's spine.

There will be no preparations for war.

Hitomi sat up straight with a gasp, blushing at the stares of the other passengers. Yukari tugged her sleeve and she stood, swaying with the train, mind working over the vision. Why had she seen that? What was going on? She had to talk to Van, and quickly--short naps _never_ yielded visions, and for her to get one while dozing on the train had to mean something important. Hitomi all but pulled Yukari off the train when it grated to a stop, parted ways with her friend in more haste than usual, and waited until she was out of sight to lean against a wall. It was always harder when Van didn't make the connection first...

Taking a deep breath, she turned her eyes to the moon and focused just behind it, until the outline of a planet came into her sight. Her thoughts were spun into a single beam of light that she visualized forming a slender thread between the two worlds, passing through space and time to connect--

__

Van jumped, blinking. He was lucky he was in his own room, or else anyone who saw him might think him crazy. _I had a vision, but I wasn't--it was--_ Her words and thoughts were coming in a knotted, jumbled mess, and it was all he could do to make sense of them. He knew visions had restricted themselves to her dreams, but according to her frantic thoughts, she'd had one while nodding off on a--a--whatever those metal carriages were. The vision came in fragments as well, and to his astonishment, he saw the discussion between him and Dryden the hour before. _Hitomi, calm down, I know that._ she asked, astonished.

_That happened an hour ago. I know Basram means to attack us. _Hitomi frowned. Why the urgency, then? _What are you going to do about it?_

There was hesitation on Van's end, more than she was comfortable with. Finally he said, _I'm going to handle it myself._ This time, the single word was practically screamed.

Van winced and said reluctantly, _Dryden is going to manage things here for a few days while I put a stop to the hijackings. If Basram can't get any more parts, they won't have the means to attack us.But that's dangerous!_ Hitomi was well aware of how familiar that sounded, but ignored it. _Fanelia needs you! Can't someone else go and report to you?_ he said stubbornly. _None of the guards can be spared, we're still building our spy network and the ones that are capable are still out in the field, and I'm the only person who knows how to handle a sword. Once I see what's going on, I'll either take it out myself or get reinforcements and head back.What if something goes wrong and you don't come back?_ Hitomi knew it wasn't a what if'--this _had_ to be why she'd seen that vision.

_Dryden has his instructions. He'll have Queen Eries and Queen Millerna choose the next ruler from the surviving nobility, and help organize a defense against Basram. Besides, if I don't come back from a mission like this, Fanelia has more problems than a missing king.  
Someone else can do it, I'm sure of it, Van! _Hitomi didn't even try to keep the fear out of her voice anymore.  
Van was about to snap at her, but he managed to check himself in time. _I need to do this myself, Hitomi. I'll be fine. Trust me._ There was an uneasy pause, and before she could say anything, he said finally, _I've got to go. I'll talk to you when I return. _There was a near audible snap as he severed the mental link between them.

Immediately he could feel her trying to reestablish the connection, but he pushed all attempts away. He had an obligation to his people to stop this war before it even started.

And if he spent a single second in this castle more than was necessary, he was going to explode.

...:...

Hitomi tried to calm herself down and forced herself to start walking again. Van knew what he was doing. He had to. He wasn't stupid. She wasn't stupid for thinking that. He wouldn't take unnecessary risks.

Alright, maybe he would. Hopefully not as many as he would have a before. He knew there was a nation on his shoulders now, and he wouldn't throw his life away, or underestimate his enemies, or...

_He'll be fine,_ she told herself. _He'll be fine._

Then she was at her house. The windows were warm with light as she let herself in, the summer breeze dying once inside. Her shoes were dropped by the door, slippers sliding on. I'm home.Welcome back, her mother called from the kitchen. Dinner's going to be ready in twenty minutes.I'll be upstairs. It would be nice if her family could afford air conditioning for the entire house instead of just the family room, but they had to make ends meet somehow, and there just wasn't the kind of money to spare for something like that. Hitomi made do with a fan instead, buying another from the hundred-yen store each time her current fan broke.

The air in her room was still, but a draft blew through once the door was opened. She dropped her duffel bag and flopped on her bed, trying to think of anything but Van, and failing.

...:...:...

**_I'm pretty sure a lot of you have read fics like this, where it's been some time since Hitomi and Van parted ways but now she's compelled to return. Pretty standard, right? But I intend to do more than that, personally._**

After watching the entire series, I did some research and discovered that originally, the series was supposed to be 39 episodes long, not 26. 39! They had to cut out a THIRD of the story, or condense it, than what was originally intended. Can you imagine? And then fans hoped they'd handle it in a sequel, but no, they got a movie. So a movie would tie up the series nicely, right? Well, no, they decided to retell the story with some pretty big differences. So this left us fans screaming, I bought/checked out/borrowed the ENTIRE SERIES and all the Hitomi/Van action was hand-holding and hugging? IF SHE KISSED ALLEN, SHE COULD'VE HAD A MAKEOUT SESSION WITH VAN, DAMMIT! Moreover, there were some things either I missed or that went unexplained. Such as, why Hitomi and her grandmother? What's the real deal with the pendant? Now what happens with Zaibach? Does Millerna join a nunnery, or what?

So this isn't exactly a Hitomi returns to Gaea and after a passionate makeout scene or three, convinces the ministers that she IS the best candidate for Queenhood! Yaaay! fic. There are too many golden plot threads left behind for my comfort, so I'll be exploiting those. And for anyone who's read any of my other stories (I'm not sure if I recommend them or not, because they're all fairly old and I'm not so fond of them anymore) you know that, somewhere in the process, a main character is going to have to eat it. It's me, it's what I do!

Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter. I've no notion how many more there are, or when they'll be coming along.


	2. Wings of Fear

On Wings  
Chapter Two: Wings of Fear

**_Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I didn't create the series. So no, I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or its characters. At all._**  
...:...

_The Atlantean Princess, Aiyeth, was not pleased at all to have a guard following her everywhere, and neither was Tiore pleased to do any such following himself. But eventually they grew accustomed to to one another, and a grudging friendship formed. Tiore began to take more concern in the princess's health, for she was getting little sleep and eating less. Her growing concern for Atlantis was feeding from her prophetic dreams, which were growing worse and worse. One night, after a nightmare-born scream called him to the princess's chambers, Tiore persuaded her to tell him of these dreams she was having. To her amazement, he believed her fears to be valid and promised to speak to friends among the sorcerer class._

For Aiyeth, a listening ear was something she rarely found, much less someone who, rather than dismissing her dreams, thought of them in the same light she did--someone who believed her. And thus it was that she began to believe in him too.

True to his word, Tiore spoke to his friends, but the words had no effect. They assured him they had complete control over their experiments and research, and too caught up in their excitement for this newest concept, they ignored the possible repercussions. No one outside of the sorcerers had heard of this new machine, though, and they intended to keep it that way until it was built.

Tiore was beginning to see more to Aiyeth than a spoiled princess, and she found in him more than a surly guard. His refusal to escort her anywhere until she ate more helped her regain the unhealthy amount of weight she'd lost; his open mind made it easier for her to voice the fears that kept her awake until she couldn't resist sleep any longer. With the anxieties out in the open, she found sleep easier, and soon was as healthy as she'd ever been. Tiore found her an intelligent friend and wise beyond her years: truly a woman who would make a wonderful queen one day. He also found her to be uncommonly beautiful, as many did.

Attraction was inevitable between them, but the love that followed was the first step towards their doom.

...:...

It was easy to tell that Fanelia was moving into another spectacular Autumn. There was a crisp edge to the air, and the edges of the leaves were beginning to take on the fiery hues that some of the wealthy even traveled to Van's country to see. Hitomi had told him once that travelers came to her country in spring to see the flowering trees, but he couldn't imagine how mere flowers could rival mile upon mile of forests in their phoenix-like finery.

He was personally glad that summer was on its way out. As enjoyable as the clear skies were, and the Harvest Festival, the heat made everyone ill-tempered. Moreover, to him, summer was like Asturia: it was nice for a little while, but after a month or two the charm in extravagance faded and it all became somewhat garish and tiresome. Autumn, though--he'd never tire of autumn.

Really, Basram couldn't have picked a better time to start kicking up mud. Crops were in, winter was still being held at bay--even should he fail and Fanelia be drawn into war, they would have the advantage of at least being fed, without the weather to worry about... for the time being.

But he wouldn't fail. He would find out what was going on and put a stop to it, and then go back to his castle and resume stewardship of his kingdom. The prospect seemed less appealing than many would have thought, though. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy being a king--it would be ridiculous to whine about being royalty. Watching his Fanelia rise from the ashes of a backwards little country to become a nation to be reckoned with was his pride and joy. But the pressure to keep it that way, to keep everyone happy, to know exactly what to do in all situations--that and a thousand thousand more responsibilities--it was getting to be too much. He saw easily how some royals went mad, and envied Eries and Millerna--in a stroke of genius, after the death of their father, they had decided to share the rule of the country. He doubted it would have worked between Folken and him, but then again, were Folken alive, he'd be king now.

What would that make him? Would he have been Prince Van all his life, free to run off like he was running off now?  
_  
I'm not running off,_ his mind said defensively as he unconsciously shifted his weight, shoulders digging into the edge of a crate. _I'm on a mission._

It was funny, really, how King Van Slanzar de Fanel would rather be sitting uncomfortably on the back of a caravan wagon, headed towards danger, than living in a palace. He could even have been asleep by now, though he'd stayed up past this hour before, working through papers or trying to think of a solution to some new crisis. What was one of the more recent ones?  
_  
Merchant Guild,_ his mind supplied with near-frightening speed. _They want the tax on imported goods lowered. But lowering it means funds vanish from some project... Maybe we could get them to pay either individual taxes or a once-a-year fee for a... a permit. That could work. I'll ask Dryden when I go back... he'd know if they would go for that...  
_  
The few riders in the back of the caravan watched the young boy slowly doze off and shook their heads at each other. Fanelia was much better off now, so what was a young lad like that doing looking so thin and exhausted? Did the king know there were still people in that shape around? The kid even had a sword, and a haunted, almost hungry look in his eyes--when they were open. Here was a boy who'd lost much to the war, they knew. He had the look of someone who had been forced to grow up too fast, yet was still in some ways very much the fifteen-year-old boy he appeared to be.

Kid probably lost his family or somethin', one of the men murmured.

Another nodded. Bet he had to fight in the war, too. That sword looks like a family heirloom, it's probably the last thing he's got. Wouldn't be the first time Dryden let someone like him hitch a ride out of the country.

The city shrank behind them as the stars overhead began to fade, paling in the light of the coming dawn.

...:...

Hitomi was trying very, very hard to ignore every hint that something was wrong. Having given up fortunetelling, she no longer bought into the concept of fate being an unalterable road that you needed some creepy machine to redirect. So when she sat down at her desk, homework spread before her, reached for a pencil, and instead picked up her tarot deck, she first glared at it, then put it right back where it was. Then when a wind picked up and blew a card off the top, which _through total coincidence_ happened to be the _Death_ card, she resisted the urge to set it on fire and instead replaced it. And continued to replace it for the next five minutes, as stubborn breezes persisted in sending it sailing into her face until she finally stuck it under the rest of the cards.

When, in the middle of translating an English paragraph, a wind of hurricane proportions sent all of her cards flying but managed to plop the Death card right into her hands, she lost her temper. Her chair fell over with a crash as she stood up, green eyes snapping and cards still whirling around her, and said out loud, Look, whatever you are, I am _sick_ of subtlety, and mystery, and enigmas! You want me to interfere, fine! Just _tell_ me what you want me to fix, or _show _me, _without_ symbolism and violence thrown in for theatric effect!

The wind promptly died down, though she got a very exasperated feel from it. There was silence.

Then something white floated in the window. To her surprise, it was one of Van's feathers. _He's calling me?  
_  
Even more astonishingly, it was swiftly followed by another, and another. _I guess he really wants to talk._

Soon the feathers were blowing in her window by the score, turning her room into a downy, glowing winter wonderland. Hitomi stared, baffled and a little weirded out. Okay, Van, she muttered, I get the point already... She reached out for one, and promptly they all vanished except for one, which fluttered in front of her, then flitted over the the window, where it hovered expectantly. She walked over.

For a moment, there was nothing--then she saw stone cliffs, a river, and--a flash of red and white--

Van crashed into the ground, bleeding badly, wings spread but stained red around the arrows piercing them. All irritation was forgotten in an instant, and Hitomi gasped in sudden, sickening fear, knowing that this was no melodramatic metaphor.

As if to confirm this, a voice slid across her mind. _Go. Go now, and you may stop this. If you do not, at least you will know where to find him.  
_  
she whispered. But--my family--the earthquakes--

Another voice rang in her head, and the illusory Van was replaced by a nebulous, glowing mist. _Were you not told that _your_ wishes will always come true?_ it asked imperiously. _You made your offering and your request at my shrine. I will watch over your family, at least until you return._ After a moment, it added thoughtfully, _And should you complete your task, the earthquakes will no longer be your concern.  
_  
You'll keep my family safe?  
_  
Dragons never lie,_ it said harshly, before vanishing. Its parting words were, _Keep the charm your friend bought. Should you need to call upon me, or I you, it will provide a means to do so._

The other voice returned. _Hitomi, you're the only person who can be trusted to do this. Get your things together as quickly as possible, and be prepared.  
_  
Her ears roared, and she staggered over to her bed as reality suddenly snapped back into place. Whatever awaited Van was more than he could handle--

Couldn't she just warn him?

No, she'd tried that before. He wouldn't listen. She didn't even think he intended to speak with her until he returned. She had no connection with Dryden, or Merle, or anyone else on Gaea. Her only option was... to go.

She stood up as quickly as she dared and started throwing possible luggage on her bed. Her duffel bag had mostly the same things as when she'd first gone and she'd needed most of it--grabbing her larger travel bag, she dumped the duffel's contents into it, and added a couple changes of clothes as well. Spying the earthquake kit in a corner, she set it by the bag, then pulled on her warmest jacket--if she remembered correctly, it was autumn there--and made sure her track shoes had made it in. Many pairs of socks went in there as well, along with some sweatshirts, pajamas, and her spare blanket. For the next few minutes, she dashed frantically around her room, cramming as much as she could into her bag.

Meanwhile, on Gaea, had Van been awake, he would have found it very interesting that his pendant had chosen right then to light up. Tucked under his shirt, which was folded under a jacket as well, it would have been hard to see, but the slight warmth it gave off might have alerted him.

More or less unfortunately, he was getting the first real sleep he'd had in months, and that was wrapped in a blanket on the hard, shuddering floor of a wagon jolting over a bumpy road. Despite less than ideal sleeping conditions, he was as oblivious to the outside world as he'd ever been, and so a glowing, heating pendant also managed to escape notice.

Hitomi's mother had grown a little concerned over what sounded like her daughter running back and forth in her room, but since there was no screaming, she was more curious than worried when she came to the door. Her daughter was busy packing up what appeared to be jeans and long-sleeved shirts, and it appeared she'd raided the bathroom for first aid and hygiene supplies.

Running away to Hokkaido, are we? she asked, confusion clear in her voice.

Hitomi looked up, startled, and the look in her eyes shocked her mother. She saw pain, anxiety, and distress; this was quite a difference from the slightly worried girl who'd sat down to tempura with her family two hours ago. Her daughter swallowed. Mom, I--

The wind suddenly picked up, coming through the window, and to the older woman's astonishment, it carried a hint of an autumnal chill. Hitomi noticed it as well. Even stranger, the sky seemed to be lightening outside, even though it was nearing midnight.

I've got to go, Hitomi whispered, paling. She blinked, then swiftly zipped her traveling bag shut, swung it over her shoulder, and grabbed her earthquake kit. More bewildered than ever, Hitomi's mother stepped to the side to let her pass, then followed her down the stairs, watched as she shoved her feet into her shoes, and squeezed out the door. Discarding her own slippers, Mrs. Kanzaki pushed on a pair of clogs and strode outside, despite wind that almost seemed to push her back.

Her daughter looked back. Where are you going!

Hitomi looked up to the sky, and Mrs. Kanzaki saw what appeared to be a very large shooting star--no, that wasn't right--it was a column of light, coming from somewhere behind the moon--it wavered, whipping back and forth miles and miles overhead, almost as if it was confused.

The green eyes slid shut, and with all her might, Hitomi thought of Gaea, of Van, of going back. She wasn't at the school, or at the shrine, but...  
_  
Your wishes always come true._

I'm scared. I'm so scared of going back. It was harder than I thought to leave before, what if I can't leave again? What if Van--what if he's changed? What if he's interested in someone else?

I think I'm even more scared that he isn't, that he doesn't like anyone like that. Then I have no excuse.

But... I want to go back.  
  
Hitomi's eyes were sliding open.  
_  
I miss the smells, the trees, the sky--I miss everyone I met there. Well, except for Dornkirk. I can't forget talking with Millerna, or flying on the _Crusade,_ or chasing Merle around the castle. I want to go back again. I want to go back to Gaea._

The dragon promised he'd take care of my family... and Van needs me.

I want to go back to Gaea.

I want to go back.

I want to go.  
**  
I want to.**  
  
There was a crack and a blinding flash of blue-green light, and when Mrs. Kanzaki's eyes cleared of spots, she saw that the pillar of light had touched down in her own front yard. Her daughter was in the middle of it, looking as if it took all of her focus to keep it in place. _  
_  
Hitomi's feet gently lifted off the ground as she turned to her mother. Don't worry, Mom. She had to raise her voice over the crackle of energy. You're in good hands. I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise.

Then she was gone, the light disappearing, a few sparks dying on the ground. Mrs. Kanzaki stood there for a moment, breathless and stunned.

Then she stormed back into the house, kicked off her shoes, smashed her feet into the first available slippers she found, and stomped over to the telephone. Her fingers shook as she dialed a number and waited for an answer. It came after two rings, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming as she said stiffly, Hello, Mother? _We need to have a talk._

...:...

It became clear to Hitomi that some part of the universe appreciated what she did for Fanelia and had decided to lend her a hand, because on the way down she remembered how the first and last times she'd gone to Gaea, she'd ended up miles from the capital, and then in another country altogether. However, the scenery now looked familiar to some degree--she had vague recollections of what the capital of Fanelia had looked like before it had burned down, and when reconstruction was ongoing, at least.

When her feet touched stone at last, and she found herself on a balcony in the castle, she counted herself as quite lucky. On the other hand, after all the nightmarish visions she'd gone through, it was about time she got a break.

It was the girlish squeal of from behind the doors that opened to the balcony, and the flurry of tan fur and pink hair rushing at her, that made her realize it was more than getting lucky, though. Sure, Merle was ecstatically hurling herself towards her, but at least someone had recognized her before a guard thought her to be an intruder.

Then Hitomi's knees gave out, and she sank to the ground. Merle caught herself and skidded to a halt, looking worried. Hitomi? You alright?

To her embarrassment, Hitomi couldn't speak. She nodded vaguely, gray fogging her vision, only to topple forward, consciousness surrendering to the delicious darkness.

...:...

Hitomi, are you _ever_ going to wake up?

That was debatable, the young woman decided. Sure, there was something pressing at the edge of her mind, something very important that needed to be handled immediately. But on the other hand, where she was, it was warm, and soft, and very, very comfortable, and beyond the blankets she could feel the cold haunting the air. No, staying in bed seemed to be a much more appealing option. She allowed her mind to drift off... and was promptly thrown into the vision of Van crashing to the ground. Hitomi sat up with a gasp.

Merle shoved a glass of water in her face, and as most of the water ended up on Hitomi, she was entirely alert and rather regretting the fact. Sputtering for breath, she managed to wheeze out, _  
_  
Right here. A mass of brown solidified into the merchant, who pulled a chair over to her bedside and sat, as businesslike as ever. Why do I get the feeling that you have either excellent or terrible timing?I saw the conversation about Basram, she said urgently, and I talked to Van, and he went, and I had a vision and--he needs to come back, or be stopped, or at least warned, or else--Easy, Hitomi. Dryden rubbed a hand over his bristling chin, thinking for a moment; he didn't need to ask to know that something bad was going to happen. After all, this was the same girl who'd seen fire and destruction raining from the sky on his _wedding day._

Hitomi used the pause to wipe her face as dry as she could, appreciating Merle's good intentions, even if the methods left something to be desired. They don't have homing birds, the man said eventually, getting up to pace. I can't exactly pull someone off the street to ride and fetch him, and I can't send a royal messenger, not unless we want Van to be attacked on the way back-- He saw their astonished looks and gave a grin that had no trace of humor in it. We're about to be a nation at war. Their are probably plenty of Basramu spies and assassins in here already, they'll pick at us any way they can. No royal messenger, no royal guard... deploying a troop to get him would alarm the city people, and panicking people make life very difficult. Dryden continued to pace.

Hitomi already knew the answer, though she wasn't particularly thrilled about it. She sighed, mentally noting that some deity out there was racking up a huge I.O.U. for her afterlife, and said wearily, I'll get him myself. It was impossible to tell which expression was more comical: Dryden's surprise and befuddlement, or Merle's indignant blanche. It was fairly blatant that neither found it a particularly good suggestion.

I'm supposed to go get him, she said impatiently. Otherwise I wouldn't have gotten the vision, one of you would have. Don't give me that look, I'm not fudging this so I can go romping through Fanelia. Dryden and Merle exchanged glances.

The fewer people that know Van's gone, the better, Dryden said slowly. And Merle can't go, people know she's under Van's protection and it'd draw too much attention.And _her _weird clothes won't? Merle asked crossly.

If we get her into Fanelian clothes, I don't think she'll stick out. He was pacing faster. Bandits haven't been a huge problem yet, and if you ride in open daylight on the main road, it's patrolled often enough that you should be safe. He stopped and looked at her sharply. Mind you, this _is_ a very, very bad idea. Sending you into a foreign country on your own...We're lucky that things have shaped up this much in Fanelia, but we're still rolling loaded dice here.I doubt that--whatever it is behind this--would go to the trouble of coaxing me here and getting me to go after Van, only to let me get mugged, Hitomi pointed out. It may be a bad idea, but it's the lesser of a bunch of evils right now.

As Dryden studied the girl, he knew he was going to end up sending her off. The question was if she'd make it. She'd grown since he'd seen her last, to be certain, but they were small changes, and he was still planning on throwing a soon-to-be-seventeen-year-old girl to the wolves.  
_  
Girls her age are cranking out babies and raising families,_ his mind reminded him. _Millerna is co-ruling a nation and she's the same age. But..._

I want you to be extremely careful, he said finally, running a hand through his hair. No wandering off the road, no going out of the inn past dusk, and absolutely _no_ talking to strangers. _If Van knew...he'd kill me. I may as well start planning my own death. But if I'm lucky, she'll put him in a good enough mood to look the other way while I catch a ship to the farthest continent possible. _We'll give you money--which you are to keep hidden in a very nondescript bag, at the bottom of _another_ nondescript bag, so that no one will look at you and think you're carrying nearly as much as you are. We've got maps to spare, and one horse ought to be able to carry your packs and keep up a decent pace. I'd leave the clothes you brought-- he gestured to her bulging travel bag --and take only what you need. The lighter you pack, the less you have to rest your horse. Hitomi nodded, already making a mental list of what she'd need and what could stay. If you're up to it, we should go and find some riding clothes for you. The less time it takes to get you off, the better.The sooner and the lighter, the better, Hitomi repeated, nodding and making sure the phrase stuck in her mind. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, subconsciously pulling down her skirt's hem under the blanket, and unsteadily rose to her feet, gripping the bedpost for support. The world turned gray for a moment, but cleared quickly, and she took a few experimental steps. Though it was exceedingly cold, her thin summer uniform doing absolutely nothing to cut the chill, she felt entirely herself once more.

Merle noted her shiver and ran over to a closet, rummaged through it, and procured a wad of cloth, which she tossed to Hitomi. Hitomi, who hadn't expected to be thrown what apparently was a cloak of some kind, nevertheless caught it. Sadly, she did so with her face. Part of her wondered, as she disentangled herself and shook it out, if it was a subconscious effort on Merle's part to do things to her face, or it was just that her face had some sort of Gaean magnetic attraction. Either was possible.

The cloak was a little small on her, coming to about her knees, but was fleece-lined and very warm. Belatedly, Hitomi realized her clothes wouldn't do her much good at all, unless somehow she ended up staying in the palace for an extended amount of time. Granted, she meant to do no such thing; she would make sure Van was safe and back in the castle, then head back to Earth before she got herself reattached to Gaea.

Three hours later, Hitomi stood at the edge of Fanelia City, looking alternately down at the cluster of houses, and out at the open road. An hour to gather the clothes, money, supplies, and horse, and for her to sift through all her luggage; an hour for Dryden to grill her in everything he thought she could possibly need to know and more, and for him to write it all down for her to keep with her map; and an hour for them to get out of the city, even flying by Leviship.

The maids had given her some fairly odd looks as she'd walked through the halls, and Hitomi had realized that it appeared she wore nothing underneath Merle's cloak, her legs bare but for socks and shoes below the knee. After she'd been put in Fanelian clothes, the only thing that drew attention was her hair, and many seemed to dismiss its shortness to illness or lice, to her chagrin.

Hitomi had been fairly dismayed to learn that women were expected to wear a skirt at all times, even while riding, but had found that the riding clothes were different than she'd expected. There was a shirt and a pair of loose leggings, then a wide, pleated skirt that went over that, a fitted jacket, gloves, boots, and a longer cloak. The jacket, gloves, boots, and cloak were all lined with fleece for extra warmth, though the fingers of the gloves weren't so as to preserve dexterity. Everything was in earthy tones, which would help her blend in further.

Now you do realize, Dryden was saying, that should you pick up so much as a single scratch, or insect bite, or dirty look, Van will _invent_ a new way of execution, just for me, for allowing you out of the castle. So every time you're tempted even the slightest bit to take even the tiniest risk, think of your pal Dryden Fassa, and how much he'd like to keep his internal organs.

Hitomi smiled. I'll do my best, Dryden.I know you will. He ruffled her hair. How many silver pieces to a gold?Copper to silver?When can you drink water?When I boil it myself or get it from an inn's well.What do we look for in the bottom of our glass?Fishy herbs.If a strange man offers you candy--I go straight to the guards.

Dryden had the expression of a martyr: knowing he was about to make a choice that was ultimately good but would cause him lots and lots of pain. I think you're ready to go.

He helped her into the saddle. Hitomi had ridden a horse only a few times before, but she knew at least how to stay on, and that was what mattered.

I'll be back as soon as I can.Well, while you're out, if you could bring his Majesty back with you, that'd be great, Dryden said dryly.

Merle had kept oddly quiet for her, but now she ran over to the horse's side and said quietly but fiercely, Don't let him get hurt, alright? Hitomi started to answer, but was cut off when Merle added even more quietly, And don't you hurt him.I'll do my best, Merle. I promise.Then get going already! The catgirl stepped back and, making sure her claws were retracted, gave the horse a slap on her rump. The mare snorted, startled, and immediately took off at a fast walk. Hitomi scrambled for the reins and tried to wave, with some success. They watched until she'd vanished around a bend.

Dryden said, I think I'm going to go enjoy my last few days alive, and I think sickening amounts of vino may be involved.

Merle smirked at him. Oh, and that'll help when Van finds out the man who sent Hitomi off by herself into Fanelia was also running his country dead drunk.

Dryden almost couldn't stand it when she was right.

...:...

There was no denying that having a horse was a useful thing, Hitomi reflected. They were faster than going on foot, and much less tiring. And in the case of an emergency, they were invaluable if calm.

But it was truly a challenge to justify the ache in her back and her legs. Hopefully it'd fade as she rode more, but the thought of further horseback excursions made her want to drown in the hot bath she'd paid for the second she had a room at the inn.

She was minding her gold, though, and deep down she knew that nightly hot baths weren't going to be realistic on this journey, unless she was willing to sleep in the gutter ever so often. On the way back they'd be paying for two rooms, and that wouldn't come cheap.

Moreover, she wasn't even sure if she'd get a room at an inn the next night. She needed to make better time, for according to the innkeeper the only caravan to pass through had done so that morning. If she was going to catch up to them she'd need to ride harder--she winced at the thought--and longer. The overall notion made her sink a little lower into her bathwater.  
_  
How do I get myself into these things?_

That was actually an excellent question, she realized with a start. Whose idea was it to make her and her grandmother the sole representatives of the Mystic Moon? What had they done right--or wrong? Was there reason behind it at all, or was it pure coincidence?

Then again, there was no point in driving herself crazy with questions like that when she had no answers, and really, no way of getting them. She couldn't even decide when to have her own visions.

Eventually she got out, dried herself off, got dressed, and ate dinner in her room. The locks on the door were triple-checked before she climbed onto the straw-filled mattress and carefully blew out the candle. The sleeping conditions were definitely a change from her spring mattress and polyester bedding, but it wasn't necessarily worse. Just...different.  
_  
Soon I'll be back home, and everything will be like normal._

_In her dream, she saw the pendant speared by light, incandescent and sparkling. She was in the light too, clean, pure light, and slowly the pendant fell into her open palms. Tears were streaming down her face, both from the overwhelming beauty of the light and its source, and the imminent, terrible loss she felt inside._

This pendant will aid you, a familiar voice said soothingly. You have been given power for a reason, daughter; it is the fate you and yours will carry until the end of time. You know your duty.

She nodded, knowing she sealed her doom.  
  
Wait just a darn minute. _Hitomi frowned. _I don't believe in Fate. And I thought we were all done with this subtlety and symbolism. Just because I'm on Gaea doesn't mean symbolic visions will suddenly make sense!  
**_  
No, but you _will_ be getting more of them._**_ The whole scene before her vanished abruptly at the sound of the voice who had spoken to her just seconds ago, and also been there to give her the vision of Van. **I didn't catch that dream, but then again, I didn't send it. If it looks prophetic, then it's probably your powers stirring on their own.  
**  
That was an encouraging prospect. Then something the voice had said caught her attention. Did you say that I'd be getting _more_ visions?I did. It's why you were perpetually collapsing with them last time you were here: Gaea knows no such disillusionment with the supernatural as Earth does. Your anxieties only fueled your power, and without the supression of skepticism, you were very open to the visions.How do you know all this? Who are you?_

There was a sigh. You ask too many questions, Hitomi... for the time, you may call me Alysen. Now wake up and get riding, or you'll fall too far behind.  
  
Hitomi's eyes snapped open, and to her dismay, she found the sky barely light outside. Even though she buried herself under the covers once more, sleep refused at all costs to return. An hour later, Hitomi had checked out, eaten breakfast, and gotten on her way, though she was still fairly grumpy about it. Something was talking to her in her dreams, and depriving her of sleep, and she had _no control over it._

That was the worst part: it wasn't as if she could tell--Alysen, that had been the name--Alysen to go sod off, and keep sleeping. She had the sense that doing so would in fact be a terrible idea. There was no way to control what was happening short of staying awake the rest of her life, which probably _still_ wouldn't help, and that was the most infuriating thing about this whole situation.

...:...

Though it had been a quiet day and a half, many of the caravan riders were on edge, as was Van. They were nearing the border, and every man's hand was on the hilt of his sword, his gaze shifting from side to side. Van was no exception, watching their backs from his seat in the rear of the wagon.

One of the riders drew closer and held out something. It took Van a moment to realize it was a roll and cheese. Eat up, he said gruffly. You'll need something in your stomach, lad, and you're sticks and straws enough as is.

Van tried not to scowl at the reminder that he had yet to attain Balgus's six-foot-mass-of-muscle status, and instead took the food with as much of a grin as he could muster. 

Having eaten, Van sat up a bit straighter, and took the precaution of flicking the hilt of his sword so the very base of the blade was exposed, which would make it easier to draw. Any minute now...

And the first arrow hit home, burying itself in wagon wood. Wine-colored eyes blinked at the arrow, and in his mind, a pendant swung towards a tree beyond the canvas walls, where a man with a bow was firing off arrows. Dropping from the wagon bed, steel drawn in a flash, he quickly got out of the way of the horses and noted what appeared to be bandits bursting from the forest. Arrows flew fast and thick from either side, men in shabby armor attacking. Van engaged one, only to quickly shatter the sad excuse for a sword the man had, and promptly knock him out with his own hilt. Looking around, he frowned. The attackers were unskilled, and more perturbingly, had no discernable leader. There was no way they were responsible for hijacking the caravans, unless...  
_  
A diversion, so we don't notice something obvious until it's too late--  
_  
Van knew he was making a target of himself as he climbed to the top of the wagon, but the archers weren't hitting anything anyway--probably with good reason. From his perch he saw something large coming through the trees, from their tops shaking; he also saw something seeping, mist-like, around their feet. Over the clang of battle he also heard a low, rhythmic rumble and crack. None of it boded well.

Then something thundered behind him and he whirled around. An eye met him, an eye that few saw and lived; clouded, yes, but slit-pupiled and savage.

A man in Basramu armor sat on a dragon, a muzzled, saddled dragon, one that moved slowly and seemed too placid to even think. Van swiftly sheathed his sword before it saw the blade and reacted. It swatted him from the wagon top with ease, however, and Van rolled to ease the blow but still felt the air rush from his lungs. He gasped for breath and tasted something strange. Some sort of gas, that was it--that was what he'd seen on the ground--if they had dragons, how were they supposed to fight back without invoking their wrath?

His thoughts silenced as the world fell into swift, frightening shadow.

...:...

When his eyes cleared, he was lying on the ground, staring at a sky the ripe blue only mid-afternoon can paint it. Van sat up too quickly, only too realize doing so not only nearly made him pass out again but made him too aware of a throbbing headache. Soon the pain and the gray clouding his vision both faded, and he looked around.

The men from the caravan were all sitting nearby, watching something with pale faces. He'd been the last to awake, probably because he'd inhaled so much gas. They were in some kind of ravine--no, it looked like an abandoned quarry or the like--and the foliage grew thick and lush here. There wasn't anything to be afraid of... Van frowned and craned his head to find the source of their fear.

Another dragon sat a few yards away, eyes unclouded, riderless, feral, and watching them with disdain that would probably evolve soon into carnivorous irritation. Should that happen before they got out, there would be issues concerning how many limbs they wanted to take with them.

The eye flicked towards him, then over to another man whose shaking hand was reaching for his sword. _Of course the Basramu left us armed, _Van thought bitterly._ That way we can wound some more dragons for them to--to tame, right before they eat us. No one would think of doing anything _but_ fighting back--at least, not soon enough._

Leave your swords alone, Van said slowly and calmly.

a man asked, his voice hushed but terse. Are you mad?My brother--studied dragons, he said, keeping all emotion out of his voice. They respond to fighting with fighting. If we leave peacefully, we will walk out of here alive.Then why do you think they dumped us here, boy? demanded another man.

Van resisted the urge to pull rank on the man--it would only breed eventual resentment to have to obey a boy king--and said instead, How many people do you suppose know not to fight dragons? They drop caravan members here, they attempt to fight--they lose, of course--the dragons are weakened, and open for subduing or whatever's been done to them. I've fought dragons before--if we walk away now, we will go free.Are you some sort of royal spy? another man asked eventually.

Van snorted. I wouldn't put it that way. He stood slowly, letting the Fanelian Royal Sword stay in its scabbard. The dark slits of the dragon's eyes watched him warily, but Van merely turned and walked away, hands at his sides. After a moment, one of the men carefully followed. When they were nearly out of sight others stood, weapons sheathed or dropped, and left. The dragon watched them all until they were gone, then returned to its nest.

How did you know what to do, lad?

Van's dark eyes flicked over to the man and found it was the one who'd given him food earlier. Like I said, my brother studied dragons, and I've fought them before. It was the truth, in a manner of speaking. That isn't important. What's important is figuring out what to do from here. Does anyone have any money?

The men checked their pockets, but unsurprisingly found all their coins missing. Van sighed internally; at least being King had honed his problem-solving abilities considerably, as well as his foresight. He'd hidden coins in his own coat, individually so as to avoid the giveaway clinking and in pockets that had been loosely sewn shut along the hem of the coat itself. Still, if it didn't last, he'd have to reveal himself as king and simply order people to do his bidding, as much as he disliked the thought.

Anyone know where we are?Gremer's Quarry, a man said, examining a map he'd hidden on him. About five miles from Woolton by road.We'll go to Woolton, I'll pay for a messenger to Dryden, and think of what to do from there, Van said tiredly.

Who put you in charge, kid? barked a man.

Anyone have any better ideas? Silence. Then let's get moving.

...:...

Woolton proved to be more than enough for them. As Dryden had described, it was a small village, full of sheep and people, with an inn and a tavern. The innkeeper, seeing their bedraggled appearance and with prodding from his wife, whose maternal instinct forbade her to turn the men away, agreed to let them spend the night for free, though meals would cost them. The town's courier was gone but would be back the next afternoon.

It would have to do, thought King Van Slanzar de Fanel from his wooden throne, surveying his surly, battered tavern court. While they waited, he would think on what it all meant. Basram, stealing metal for some sort of weapon, enslaving dragons. Neither were good signs. If he freed the dragons and destroyed their supply of whatever sedative they were drugging them with, that would be a decent blow. It would keep them from getting their hands on anymore of Dryden's caravans, at least.

Van sat, brooding, in the tavern for some time, watching the sky's hue gradually deepen, but it was half an hour from sunset when a familiar sound reached his ears. At the same time, the untouched vino in his mug shivered, surface rippling.

The chair fell over as he jumped to his feet and tore out of the tavern, only to find that Basram had followed them.  
_  
They're ready to act,_ the political part of his mind whispered calculatingly. _Openly attacking a Fanelian village...unless they intend for there to be no survivors. In that case it'd take time for word to get out. Either way, this doesn't look good._

On the other hand, he doubted that drugged, manipulated dragons could make _anything_ look good.

The chest of the first one swelled, lighting up in warning, before flames blasted down the road, licking greedily at the walls of the cottages. Thatched roofs lit up quickly. Basramu foot soldiers were stomping towards them as well, cutting down anyone in their way and helping spread the fires. Screaming and smoke darkened the sky.

Amidst it all, Van drew his sword; a ring of steel, a flash of reflected light, and that was all the warning they got.

One soldier down, then another. A third and a fourth dropped. He was trying to keep from killing them, only disabling. He didn't try spectacularly hard, though, and some went down with a spray of blood. Then he was by one of the dragons. Swollen glands, burning light--he dodged to the right, and the flames missed him--he seized the opportunity and jumped onto the dragon's lowered head, running up its ridged spine to cut down the man riding it. All harnesses were promptly sliced away as well, and the dragon watched the destruction with blank, mindless eyes.

The sun was touching the horizon and Van was taking down another dragon's controller when a flicker of color above the flames caught his eye. Two children were trapped by the window of one of the few two-story houses and framed in fire, and nobody saw save for their parents. Everyone else was too engrossed in survival. Van threw the man from the dragon and jumped from its shoulders, flicking the blood off of his sword and sheathing it while wings erupted from his back.

There were gasps, and suddenly everyone's attention was on him, as he had known it would be. Taking care not to let his wings catch fire, he quickly flew to the window, gathered the children, and set them by their parents. An arrow whizzed by his head and he stiffened; it occurred to Van that, since everyone _knew_ the King was the last known Draconian, and that the way to tell was whenever he used his _wings,_ perhaps alerting the Basramu soldiers that the King of Fanelia was in a small village that couldn't really defend itself against a plague of locusts, much less an invading army, was probably not his best idea ever.

Before he knew it, more arrows were flying at him. He immediately took to the air, getting as high up as he dared. _I could draw the soldiers away, then hide somewhere and let them look in vain--that sounds like a good plan--  
_  
And as he suspected, they did follow him when he flew away, but the archers came with them. Van kept to the relative cover of the forest, which was harder to navigate but meant a clear shot was near impossibly to make, and kept one eye on the red glow of the village fading behind him. Then he found himself in open air and checked himself, belatedly hovering over a canyon of some sort. _Right--the river--  
_  
Bowstrings sang now that the target had stopped and the forest was ending; arrows buried themselves in white feathers, one, two, three, four, then five. Van cried out, trying to stay airborn and failing. Pain clouded his vision.

The soldiers watched in satisfaction as the King of Fanelia plummetted, red staining his wings, and was swallowed by the darkness at the bottom of the canyon. Find a way down and finish him off, the commanding officer ordered, then turned around only to find an unpleasant surprise.

They assumed that the noise behind them had been their own soldiers, but instead they found they'd been surrounded by some very angry men who did not take kindly to invaders, though they hadn't seen the fall of their king. With the cliff at their back, the Basramu soldiers had nowhere to go.

About an hour later, it was full twilight when a young woman rode into Woolton. The sight of burned houses, dark heaps that had once been human, and distraught villagers made her shut her eyes a moment to collect herself. Pushing back her hood, she quickly surveyed the damage. There was nothing she could see that she could immediately help with--the only fires still going were from torches to see by, the wounded were being tended, the dead being laid out. None of the injured people seemed to need anything only she could provide.

A few questions to one of the women and a borrowed torch later, and Hitomi had what she, for the moment, needed. She took the path the woman had described, winding through forest, then saw the trees thin out ahead and dismounted, raising her torch. When she reached the cliff's edge, she took the narrow, winding game trail, leading her mare, who was even more thrilled about their road than Hitomi was. The torch's arc of light was enough to see about five feet ahead of her, though dust began to cloud the beam. Rocks occasionally dislodged themselves and rattled down the trail ahead of her, or down the canyon wall entirely.

A nerve-racking half an hour later, Hitomi had made it to the bottom of the canyon and was now sweeping the torch around, searching for the sight she'd tried to prevent. There he was, lying still and pale, beautiful wings seeming nailed to the rocky river bank by the arrows and their crimson halos. All red, black, and white, the first sight of Van she'd had in five months reminded her rather of the dragonflies they'd studied in science, creatures of the wind and sky cruelly pinned to an earthly, mundane, banal piece of cardboard.

It took all of her self-control not to to drop the mare's reins and run to his side; losing the horse would help neither of them. Instead, she brought the horse over near him and looped the reins around a branch, reminding herself to let her get water soon. Carefully, she knelt by Van.

From what she could see, there were at least five arrows in his wings alone, and his skin was smeared with soot and blood, some of it from wounds he doubtless had picked up defending Woolton against...Basram, was it? Also doubtless that he hadn't noticed these wounds at all, and probably had forgotten about the burns she could see as well. Where it wasn't burnt, his skin was alarmingly cold, probably due to lying outside, unconscious, by a river, for who knew how long, in the middle of autumn, and it being nearly nightfall.

His pulse was slow and rather weak, and she could tell he'd lost plenty of blood. Moving quickly, she gathered nearby driftwood and dried grass and shoved it into a pile, kindled it with a torch, and let it catch fire, then stuck the torch upright between two river rocks. She then pulled her mess kit and water jug from the horse's packs and set a pan of water to boil over the flames as best she could, then while it was heating, fished out her first aid kit, bandages, antiseptics, ointments, and other medical supplies, laying them out neatly between Van and the fire. The light was definitely not enough to work by, so the took out the electric lantern she'd been saving and turned it on as well.

Once the water was boiling to her satisfaction, she took it off the fire and let it cool some, dipping a cloth into it. The wings were the most problematic thing she saw, with five arrows in them, and she decided that that was to be tackled first. While the first aid class she'd taken in school hadn't exactly covered arrow wounds, it wasn't too hard to see what had to be done...did she have a knife somewhere? If any of them had gone clear through a wing, she'd have to cut off the head before she pulled it out.

She found herself extremely glad that Van was unconscious yet, and hopefully would be for the duration of her arrow-pulling. Gritting her teeth, she examined the first wound. It hadn't gone all the way through, but blood was caked around the base of the shaft, glueing it to the matted red feathers. Hitomi gingerly washed as much of the blood loose as she dared, then grasped the arrow, closed her eyes, realized that closing her eyes was a _bad_ idea, and pulled.

A shudder ran through Van as the arrow jerked free, and the wound started bleeding sluggishly again. Hitomi quickly washed the area and secured a wad of bandaging to it, then gave the offending arrow a dirty look for causing her and Van so much trouble. _One down, four to go..._

...:...

He'd been floating in darkness for some time, cold and rather uncomfortable, feeling frozen in place. Then something had started glowing and producing warmth at his side, which had been nice. It wasn't like he was awake to enjoy it, but it had registered pleasantly on some level of his subconscious.

What hadn't registered pleasantly on _any_ level of his subconscious was the burning agony that shot through some part of him some time later. He shook, trying to ride it out, and rather glad that whatever was going on, he was unconscious for it.

Four more times the pain came, but it was the kind of pain of healing, which was the only thing that kept him from forcing himself awake. On the other hand, who was doing this to him?

Van barely managed to pry his eyes open as something warm flowed over the last place to have exploded in hurt. His wings--that was where that pain had been. His head felt like it was weighted in lead as he dragged it up, squinting around.

Someone was kneeling by him, gently washing blood away from a nasty looking wound. He saw a pile of gory arrows a few feet away, five in total, which explained more than it didn't. Who was treating his wounds, though? Not a villager--there were still horror stories about Draconians, none would dare to even venture into the canyon.

His eyes, though blurred, landed on the hands still cleaning his feathers, traveled up a hand to an arm, arm to a shoulder, shoulder to neck to face. It was still dim and fuzzy, but when the woman turned, firelight played across her features, sliding in a way Van knew very well.

I'm dead, aren't I? he croaked before he could help himself. _Probably contracting wound fever if I'm not, which would explain the hallucinations.  
_  
There was a strained life. Keep flying into arrows and you will be.

That was definitely Hitomi. How did you get here?

Van caught a smile as she started putting a bandage of some sort on the now-clean wound. The sting of herbs came when it met skin, but they had to be healing herbs from the Mystic Moon or the like. I'll tell you later. You need sleep.

Van would have actually liked to argue that he'd spent quite enough time sleeping for one day and that it was time for him to get up and about. Unfortunately, he never got to say anything of the sort, for exhaustion had quietly but firmly overwhelmed him once more.

Hitomi smiled knowingly and wondered how she was going to get to the rest of his wounds.  
...:...:...  
**_Alright, that's another chapter down... So sorry for the delay, but these _are_ long chapters, plus I couldn't very well pretend my Harry Potter wasn't there for a week while I churned this out. Also, a good couple days were dedicated solely to plotting this story out. Though you may find it interesting that I did leave the ending pretty open, so I'll be deciding that later. I rather like to do that._**

Um, for future reference, I don't usually respond to reviews. I read and appreciate them all, of course, and I love how the Escaflowne reviewers are a LOT more thoughtful than in some other fandoms, but responding takes time and I think you guys would rather have the chapter up sooner. However, if you do have a question in a review I try to answer it, unless it's more of a rhetorical question such as Where's the rest of this story/Why isn't there more? or a question that is... well, to be perfectly blunt, stupid. But I rarely get those.

Anyway, now that there's no Harry Potter to distract me, and most of the story is plotted out, I should have time for at least another chapter. After that I'm out of town from July 28th to August 8th, and while I plan on taking Pandora (my laptop) with me, I wouldn't expect a lot of updates, really, and not for a little while. Who knows, though, a lot of driving should be involved so maybe I can write in the car. We'll see!


	3. Wings of Silence

On Wings  
Chapter Three: Wings of Silence  
**_Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne or its respective characters. I just write this for fun, not for profit._**

_Though they were knight and princess, protector and the protected, love had taken root between Tiore and Aiyeth. Worse, it was not the fleeting affections of two teenagers: it was love, real, strong, and pure, and it would not be silenced. They hid their feelings from one another as long as they could. It didn't help, and when they finally discovered how the other felt, it only brought them that much closer._

Then one night, they went too far. A healing woman could sense the child growing within Aiyeth and went to her father, the king. Furious, the king sought out Aiyeth and found her with her guard, and put two and two together.

Aiyeth was locked within her rooms, her windows barred, and would only be allowed out on her wedding day, for she was now to be married within the week to a respectable noble. Tiore fared worse; after a harsh whipping, he was thrown from the palace and ordered under pain of death never to return.

Tiore fell unconscious in the street, and was rescued by his friends among the sorcerers. They healed his wounds, listened to his story, and told him they had a way to help. If anyone had a strong desire and the will to enact change, it was Tiore, and the sorcerers claimed that they had a way to change that desire and will to power. They called it the Atlantis Machine.  
  
...:...

It was well past dawn when Van woke and discovered that his eyes were the only part of him that wasn't sore or stiff. He was still lying on his stomach, and the rustling of feathers told him why--he couldn't very well lie on his wings.

Moving carefully, he managed to move into a kneeling position, though not without pushing the limits of his pain tolerance. There were bandages on his chest, his arms, his legs, even his face; the sharp scent of medicine lingered under the linens, and it looked as if someone had at least attempted to wipe away the soot and grime he'd accumulated. He was also on some sort of makeshift bed: dried grass piled under him, with a blanket over it, and then another blanket had been spread over him.

He'd had a dream that Hitomi had been there, which was sad. They both knew it was unwise to depend on one another, for that could turn into something akin to addiction, and that would only breed danger and unhappiness. Yet while he didn't want to depend on her, that didn't change that he wanted her _with_ him. Perhaps when this was over, he could see her again; fly to her Mystic Moon, see her world, listen to what her life was becoming.

In the meantime, he needed to finish things with Basram. Whoever had tended to him would be rewarded properly; possibly he would make him or her a noble. Fanelia had lost entire families of the aristocracy, and if he could appoint people to manage estates, it would help expedite their trade, hopefully. Handpicking nobles would mean he could hopefully avoid the lunacy, greed, and cruelty that had run in some of the older noble families.

Yes, someone who aided strangers, especially ones who didn't look wealthy but were definitely Draconian, would do nicely as a new aristocrat. Where was his savior, and what land would he give them management of? Van carefully looked around, squinting in the sunlight.

A girl sat on the other side of a small fire, slumping as an unconscious person would, looking like one good breeze would knock her over and she'd still sleep the day through. Her head was tilted so that her wheat-colored hair fell over most of her face, and what was left visible was mashed into the palm of a hand, elbow propped on a knee.

She was too familiar by far.

Van stiffly got to his feet, located the mental connection to his wings, and severed it. They fell apart in a shower of feathers and he swayed from the sudden shift in his center of gravity, then took a cautious step forward. So far, so good, though it hurt very much to do so, and the autumn air was frigid against his bare chest. He had to go make sure the girl was taken care of--the way she was now, one wrong, unconscious shift of weight, and she could topple into the fire--then he would go back and lie down. Wrapping one of the blankets around his shoulders, he staggered onward.

It was a pathetically agonizing journey of a few steps to her side, and an even more pathetic endeavor to drop to his knees. He managed both. It was lucky for both of them that she was sitting on a blanket already, because shaking one out and putting it down for her was out of the question. Moving slowly, he gave her shoulder a slight push, then eased her to the ground. Concentration on _not_ dropping the girl was the only thing that kept him from doing so, though when her head fell back his focus wavered in favor of catching a glimpse of her face.

It was an extremely good thing that he _hadn't_ dropped her, he realized, mind blanking as he finally got a look at her. If this girl wasn't Hitomi, she had an extremely convincing double, one who had a penchant for getting him out of tough situations. No, it had to be Hitomi--the way her hand curled into a half-fist while she slept, the momentary squirm and flinch as something subconsciously troubled her... He had seen them all; nearly two years had passed, but he still knew her.

The name escaped him before he even knew he'd spoken.

She shifted again in her sleep, mumbling, What is it? I'm busy...

A broad smile lit up his face. He doubted she was here merely to enjoy the canyon's natural beauty, or really, lack thereof, and it wasn't like she'd decided to go for a walk on Gaea and gotten lost. No, Hitomi had come back for him.

There was no point in dragging himself over to the other side of the fire, he decided, particularly when he was probably going to stay awake, since somebody had to make sure they weren't robbed or attacked or the like. His mind was too fuzzy to contemplate the ramifications of laying next to any sleeping person at the moment, so really, it sounded like a logical and wise idea.

With a sigh, though whether it was of exhaustion or contentment he opted not to ponder, he settled next to Hitomi, keeping a foot or so of distance between them. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up tangled in his arms, and then have to inform him she was engaged to some other man or some such disastrous news. It would be bad enough that they were now both under the blanket he'd brought with him, but damn it all, he felt terrible and if he wanted to be next to anyone, it was her.

Perhaps it was that her presence had always calmed him; perhaps it was that, despite what he would have liked to think, he was still very badly hurt and needed to rest; perhaps it was some distant deity's work; whatever it was, though he struggled mightily against it, Van found himself slowly drifting off into sleep once more.

...:...

Hitomi didn't remember settling down for the night. In fact, the last thing she remembered was watching Van, chin propped in her hand, and trying to think of anything else that needed to be taken care of. The horse had been fed and watered, the king's wounds tended to, the fire going steadily...

And she'd drifted off mid-thought. But that had been sitting up. So why was she laying down, with a blanket over her, and an unidentified source of warmth at her back?

Squinting through the flames, she realized with even more confusion and a healthy dose of anxiety that Van was no longer on his makeshift bed. In fact, he was nowhere to be found, though there were plenty of white feathers scattered on the rocks nearby. Neither signs were very comforting.

Something behind her shifted, letting out a very human-like sigh, and she froze, cheeks flaring an incandescent crimson. _If I turn over, am I going to see what I think--_

NO. No no no no no! The king of Fanelia does not hop into bed with old friends from the Mystic Moon! Maybe Van went for a walk, and it's... the horse? Or something. Don't fall into your fantasies, Hitomi, or you'll end up more attached to Gaea than ever. Now roll over, make sure it's not Van, and go find the boy before he does something noble and stupid again.  
  
Hitomi obligingly turned over and tried not to squeak at what she found.

_Okay,_ her mind said feebly,_ maybe he _does_ hop into bed with old friends from the Mystic Moon._

At least he looked considerably better in the morning light. She'd done her best to get rid of the blood and soot smeared on his skin, and though he was still pale, his color had improved since the night before. He also looked relaxed, something she wished she saw more often. From the tiny creases she saw at the corner of his eyes, it seemed it was something Van wished he saw more often too.

It was the first time she'd seen him in full daylight since she'd returned to Earth, now that she thought of it. Rather than risk questions, they'd always met at night, talked for a while, and then he'd headed back before either of them were missed. It was a shame, really, because the darkness had always dulled his features, making her memory fade to some degree as well. It was easy to forget under some circumstances, but how could she? The way his hair fell over his eyes just so; the eyelashes that would have been feminine on another man, but not him--

_Hitomi,_ her mind said briskly, _might I remind you that you're laying next to the King of Fanelia. **Laying.** You've still got your clothes on, at least, but still. What if you drift off and... This is bad. Very, very bad._

It would have helped if she wasn't so terribly attracted to him (and, perhaps, if he had a shirt on.) There had been the seed of something more than friendship when she had left, no use in denying that. She had known that she cared for him--loved him, even. And she knew he cared for her.

But ever since, even when he'd been visiting once a month, there had been the line between them that neither dared to cross. There was an emotion neither dared to let themselves feel. And there were the words that neither dared to say aloud.

Kanzaki Hitomi was in love with Van Slanzar de Fanel, reigning King of Fanelia, and it made it that much harder. Allen had been an infatuation with a tie to her own world, and he'd been on the rebound. Amano was not only Yukari's, but a young girl's silly, fleeting crush.

But nothing rationalized what she felt for Van. He didn't remind her of anyone on Earth--he didn't remind her of anyone at all. He had nothing to offer besides himself--she had no desire to rule Fanelia. And it wasn't as if it was pure, animal, hormonal attraction: they had been first reluctant companions, then friends. Had it not been for Merle's demand that she decide between Allen and Van, it was possible she still wouldn't recognize her feelings for what they really were. She'd mistaken infatuation for love for too long, and then when real, impossible love had finally made its presence painfully obvious, it had been too late.

There was really no logical reason for her to be in love with him, and that was why she was afraid. When her world lost touch with rhyme and reason, there was no telling what would happen. What if she fell even deeper? What if the spark between them had died in five months of separation? What if it had kindled something more?

When they were from two different worlds; when she had college and career ahead of her, and he political marriage and the rule of a nation; when there was no future where a could exist, how badly would she be burned when the fantasy fell apart?

_ Your wish comes from your anxiety._ Varie's voice echoed sternly in her head. _That wish realizes your anxiety._

_So if I lose it now, I'll just drive us apart forever,_ she thought grimly. _And if I wish for something happy, it's entirely possibly I'll just end up forcing Van to do something like give up Fanelia for us, which makes me no better than Dornkirk. But if I believe in us... I don't know. How can we _possibly_ be together? One of us would lose a home. No, _I_ would lose a home. He would never leave Fanelia... unless it was under my influence. And I don't want to force him to do anything. But then what hope do we have?_

There we go with the anxieties again. Just... be, Hitomi. Just be. You're together now. Enjoy it while it lasts. There may be a solution yet... there's always hope.  
  
Still exhausted by her all-nighter, Hitomi let her eyes slide shut again, telling herself it was just for a minute. Van's wounds probably needed to be dressed again, though really, she just wanted them to heal up already. Then they could head back to the castle and she could go back to Earth. Well, maybe she'd stick around a bit. _Best not to think about it now..._

...:...

_Hitomi dropped her pendant into his hand, looking at him with those wide green eyes. I want you to have this._

Before he knew it, he'd pulled her closer, holding her as closely as he'd ever wanted to. It was the single most frightening and exhilarating thing he'd ever done, and it wasn't helped when she wrapped her arms around him. They'd been through too much together, and now being apart was a concept foreign to both.

I fell in love with her,_ he thought slowly. _I'm damned, but I fell in love with her. And now I--I may never see her again. No, we're going to try. __

Hitomi was actually shaking, and every urge in his entire being was telling him that it was now or never. But she belonged in her world; she was from the Mystic Moon, and he couldn't keep her here.

Now! Kiss her, damn it, now! If all else fails, you'll never see her again!

I can't do that to her.  
_  
He knew he was doing the right thing, and that was what mattered, but raising the energist into the air before things went any further was the hardest thing he had ever done in his entire life. He put on his best I'm happy for you' face as the light surrounded both of them, as she promised she wouldn't forget him, voicing both their fears; as she lifted in the air and vanished into the Gaean sky._

Even with the pendant hanging around his neck, and even with the monthly visits, he never could help feeling terribly alone. Yes, he'd done the right thing--neither of them could feel guilty getting involved with someone else, if the two of them were never involved in the first place. But the thing was, there wasn't_ a someone else. Merle tried to be there for him, but there was only so much he could talk to her about._

And she certainly couldn't bring Hitomi back for him.  
  
It had become too difficult to try to keep sleeping, the insistent light doing its best to prick Van into consciousness, and reluctantly, he let his eyes slide open. The sun blasted into his face, far too bright for his taste, and a growl of disgust rumbled in the back of his throat.

I'd say good morning, but it's well past noon now.

Van propped himself up on an elbow and took in the sight of what initially seemed a mirage. Hitomi was sitting by a fire, wearing Fanelian clothes and making some sort of food in a cooking contraption she held over the coals. His stomach returned to life and reminded him very forcefully that he'd missed lunch, dinner, and breakfast, and though he had no notion what Hitomi was making in that metal thing, it definitely smelled edible.

_That's right. She... came back._

Fanelian clothes certainly suit her.

Van had a rebellious thought that suggested Fanelian clothes would look better _off _her and glanced to the side until he knew he wouldn't be blushing quite so hard, and was thinking much purer thoughts. Allen constantly teased him about his seeming lack of interest in girls, but both of them knew that it was not only very much present, but was directed towards one girl in particular, and her alone. Sadly, she'd been on the Mystic Moon, but that apparently hadn't lasted. You came back, he observed, and immediately felt the idiot for stating the obvious.

she said in her most businesslike tone, I told you I got a bad feeling about this little reconnaissance trip, and then about an hour after you so pleasantly cut me off, I got a wonderful vision of you bleeding to death on the bottom of the canyon floor. And it's not like I have a telepathic connection with anyone else on Gaea. Merle and Dryden didn't think anyone else could track you down either, not without looking totally conspicuous or having no idea what to look for.

_Great, Van. You dragged her away from her home to save your ass because you were itching for an adventure. Real smooth._ he said shortly, wishing he had a better way of putting it. Allen would have apologized with the eloquence of a bard for at least five minutes.

It's fine, she said somewhat resignedly. I think--something's going on, Van, something big. It's all too convenient. A frown crossed her face, and she gave the metal cooking device a shake. Oh, and the potatoes are done.

The foreign word caught him off guard. Potatoes. They're vegetables--well, more of a root, really--from another country on the Mystic Moon. Hitomi divided the food between two plates and handed him one, along with a spoon. It's practically impossible to dislike potatoes. Then again, you like those weird sour fruit things.

He shoveled some into his mouth, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was delicious. However, something she'd said refused to be ignored. What did you mean by it all being too convenient?Think about it. Having pulled all of her cooking stuff from the fire, Hitomi now sat back and crossed her legs, speaking in between bites. Nearly two years after... everything... Basram decides to declare war. That's given everyone enough time to catch their breath and refresh themselves, and time enough to have something to want to defend, so we won't be too averse to going to battle with them. _Dryden's_ caravans are being attacked. Asturia is our unconditional ally, which means if anything happens, we'll be seeing more of Millerna and Allen--and Celena, now that I think of it. _You_ get in trouble, drawing _me_ back to Gaea. She scowled. It's just like the Mystic Valley all over again. We've all got reasons to return, and we're being drawn together again. It can't be chance.

Van could see the same wheels turning in her head as those that turned in his. If she'd been pulled into this as some thread in a divine tapestry like the rest of them, odds were that she'd be kept on Gaea until this all ended, and that probably wasn't going to be soon.

Go home, he said suddenly.

__ A look of pure disbelief darkened her face.

Go home before you get dragged into this mess. It was funny, really, how he had this terrible habit of telling people to do things that deep down, he really didn't want them to do. On the other hand, he _didn't_ want her to get involved in this.

You don't want me around? she demanded, eyes flashing.

That's not it at all! He sat up as straight as he could manage. If you get pulled into another war, who knows what's going to happen? Those visions you kept getting--don't forget how many times they were so bad that they made you _collapse!_ And do you know how much pressure you'd be under to predict the enemy's movements? _I_ won't make you, but I can only tell people not to push you into something, the rest is up to _their_ integrity. And if Basram gets word that you involuntarily have visions, they could have you put under hypnosis and forced to tell fortunes for them! Though he'd die before he let that happen, it wasn't that much of an assurance.

All's fair in love and war, she murmured. The possibility of being forced into premonitions hadn't occurred to her; neither had the notion that she could be as much of a liability as assistance. What if Fanelia fell to Basram? Could they rise again?

_Wait a second. Yeah, that--that's true-- _That risk is there, she said slowly. But... there _is_ some kind of master plan going on, it's pretty clear. Whoever's pulling the strings wouldn't bother pulling me from Earth if they intended for me to be dead or unconscious in a ditch somewhere. We stopped the Great War, they probably want us to stop Basram too. It just wouldn't make sense to bring me here, only to have me die.

It took Van a moment to fully understand what she was getting at, but once he did, he knew it was a good point. But... What about the visions?

She shrugged somewhat bitterly. I have the feeling, she said dryly, that if I go home now, I'll see portents and signs and omens that I should be on Gaea--and that would be _on top_ of all the visions I'd get if I _were_ here.So you're... not going home right away.

Hitomi shook her head and stared at the sky, eyes narrowed. A pawn's place is on the chessboard until it's captured, or the game is over.It's a game of strategy on Earth, she explained. It's kind of like war. There are different pieces with different abilities--pawns are like pages, rooks are like towers or castles, knights are like samurai, bishops are like priests, and the king and queen are the two most powerful pieces. They all move in different ways, and there's a set in white and one in black. There's a board they're placed on, with alternating black and white squares, and the goal is to capture or corner the king. Pawns are considered the weakest pieces because they can only move one square at a time, and there are eight of them and two of everything else but the queen and king. The king is the most important piece, but the queen is the most dangerous because it can move in two different ways.We have a game kind of like that, Van said thoughtfully. The pieces are different divisions of the army and their commanders, though. So she was staying until the Basram problem was solved. The temptation would be to drag it out as long as possible, but he wasn't going to sink that low. If he'd sent her home once, he could do it again. At least, he thought he could. They'd cross--or burn--that bridge when they came to it.

_I'm glad she's here. How could I not be? _He'd been waiting for years to see her again, particularly in daylight, and now she was back on Gaea. And it was true that, though he was used to her strange clothes, either Dryden or Merle had known what they were doing when they'd given her traveling garb.

It had only been five months since he'd seen her last, but nearly two years since he'd gotten a good look at her. She'd grown in ways that were _not_ going to help him focus on the conflict with Basram, not in the slightest. With her cropped hair and pale skin, she'd always appeared almost fay; now her face had lost enough of its softness to give her features a more angular cast, rendering her even more unworldly. Your hair's gotten longer, he noted out loud, then realized he'd done so and flushed. It was true, though: amber strands now fell near her chin, curling slightly at the ends.

Hitomi, who had been eyeing Van out of the edge of her vision--well, it wasn't _her_ fault that she hadn't seen him in five months, and seen him shirtless in two years--was startled when he spoke. Her hair--he'd said something about her hair. It getting long. That was it. I--I've been meaning to cut it, she mumbled, running a hand through her locks self-consciously. In fact, she'd always made sure to keep it the same length while he'd been visiting. Once he'd stopped, though...

Don't what?Don't cut it.It looks like a mop, Hitomi grumbled, quite sure that if this kept up, her face was actually going to ignite. Her hair probably was all over the place, really, and filthy.

It looks fine. Van was very certain that if they didn't find something else to talk about soon, his face was most definitely going to combust. In truth, it looked more than fine. It had shifted from being tomboyish to a lot more attractive than he'd been prepared for.

Then Hitomi scowled. Van, have you ever hurt your wings before?

He blinked, then shook his head. Not really, no.Can I see them?They may be still hurt, she explained, getting to her feet. Unless the five arrows through them were some kind of growths you developed, in which case I'm going to feel a lot worse about pulling them out.

Van snorted. The wings regrow each time I make them. They're kind of like a pair of teeth that grow back each time you lose the ones before. If you want to check, though, be my guest. It was entirely possible the arrows had done some sort of damage. A few feathers drifted loose as his wings unfurled, skin and bone shifting.

Hitomi made her way over and stood behind him. Nothing so far, she muttered, leaning closer and peering at the feathers. _Wait..._ Something was a bit off in one patch, and if she remembered correctly, that was where an arrow had been. It was even tinged red. Her brow furrowed, and her fingers brushed the feathers near the area.

The wing twitched unexpectedly, and Hitomi jumped. Oh, jeez--did that hurt? I'm sorry--

Van shook his head, partially to clear it. No one had actually _touched _his wings before, so he hadn't known how sensitive they were. I--was just surprised, he stammered.

It didn't hurt? Hitomi asked worriedly.

Let me know if it hurts, then.All right.

Nevertheless apprehensive, she cautiously touched a healthy-looking patch of feathers. The wing trembled slightly, but he didn't seem to be in any pain, so Hitomi took a deep breath and continued to examine his wing. As she'd suspected, where an arrow had been, the wound had closed, but the feathers were sparse and new-looking. The skin underneath was also flushed, but it didn't look like any infection had set in.

Van barely registered Hitomi's voice as she told him there were marks where the arrows were. For the young king, it had been a fairly overwhelming morning: the sole person he would move heaven and Gaea for was not only back with him for the first time in too long, but also intended to stay with him for a considerable amount of time. And now she was touching his wings, which was comparable to running her fingers through his hair. Well, it felt about that good.

...and it looks like they're healing up fast, so there's nothing to worry about, Hitomi was saying. They're still kind of stained, though... huh... He could practically see her chewing on her lip. Hold on. There was a rustle behind him--she had to be going through one of the packs--and then Van's eyebrows shot up.

Hitomi was watching the back of Van's head anxiously, hoping she wasn't putting him through agony. She just didn't want the stains to stay... He'd _tell_ her if the brush was hurting him, though, wouldn't he? She'd hoped the warm water would help get the bloodstains out and maybe make it a little less unpleasant for him, and the bristles were soft... He looked tense, though, so it probably wasn't working. Are you--is it-- he said, his voice discouragingly strangled.

Are you sure?

_He doesn't sound that happy,_ she thought miserably. _Sure starting off on the right foot, Hitomi. Why don't you put those arrows back in yourself?_ _But he'll get mad if I stop, because he'll think that I think he can't take it..._

Van swallowed, trying not to make an enormous fool of himself, but Hitomi wasn't making it easy at the moment. Did she really think she was hurting him? It was taking just about all of his control not to _propose_ to her right now. Was there any way he could get his wings dirty, or stained, or anything, sometime soon? The more brushing, the better. On the other hand, his self-restraint only went so far.

All done, Hitomi said suddenly.

Many words crossed Van's mind, but none of them were uttered in polite society. he told her instead, reluctantly letting his wings go. A blizzard of feathers decorated the sky for a few moments.

Hitomi tore her eyes away from the white flurry and turned to her pack, shoving the brush back and dragging out her first aid kit. We'd better change those bandages too, she sighed.

Van said, a little too quickly. He'd forgotten one thing about having feelings for a girl: it had the unfortunate tendency to make him act like a moron of epic proportions. Yes, Hitomi was here. Yes, she was going to stay for some time. But she had to go home sometime, and when she did, he would have to be happy for her. It would be cruel to let anything happen now, and both of them would be hurt. No, he couldn't do that to her or to himself.

Van got the feeling that, in the near future, self-restraint was going to be his friend--a feeling he didn't precisely revel in.

...:...

The cold water helped shock Hitomi out of her drowsiness. It was the third morning she'd spent in the canyon while Van's wounds healed, and she felt disgusting. A bath, or a swim, or something--that would be nice--but it _was_ autumn and the water was absolutely frigid. Fanelia showed no signs of being a volcanic country either, so the odds of finding a hot spring were low. For now, she'd have to make do with washing her face and hair as best she could in the cold river, which was better than nothing; when they got to an inn, maybe she could get a bath.

Van's wounds were healing quickly and cleanly, for which she was grateful. In fact, they were healing faster than she'd thought they would, but she attributed it to Draconian blood and thought little of it. They passed the time talking about Fanelia, about Earth, about her prophetic dreams, about his plans for the future, about Basram, about Asturia--that and much more. Running out of things to discuss seemed a feat impossible.

It was also a chance for them to readjust to one another: they had been close before, but there was no accounting for the events that had passed for each, and how they'd been changed in the time apart. Did she still play with her shirt's hem when she was distracted? Did he still practice with his sword when he needed to think through something? Were the little things that defined them still there?

It was past noon when they agreed that Van was well enough for them to leave. Hitomi managed to fit everything back into the packs and load them on the mare--in a vindictive mind, Van had dubbed the unfortunate beast Dilandau--and despite his protests, insisted that he ride and she lead Dilly. It was the closest thing to an argument between them, in fact, and it ground to a halt when she glared at him and informed him stiffly that she was not going to risk him falling and hurting himself in any manner possible, because if she _didn't_ get out of this canyon and to an inn where she could have a bath, she would commit regicide, leave his body for the fishes, and go back home, visions and portents be damned.

It occurred to Van, from his grumpy seat in the saddle, that while many things had changed, Hitomi's temper had not been among them.

Woolton was already recovering when they made their way down the road. Van dismounted to talk to the survivors, as well as Dryden's surviving caravan men, and arranged to pay them to help rebuild Woolton. (He also managed to find a couple shirts to replace the one he'd reduced to shreds, somewhat to Hitomi's disappointment.) The citizens were assured that soldiers would arrive soon as well, and that Van would do his best to keep this from happening again, which was the best he could do. The inn had been converted into a makeshift hospital, though, and was in no shape to put them up for the night; moreover, their courier had been sent out again to the nearby city of Gremerton for help.

It was less likely for a decent-sized city like Gremerton to be attacked, Hitomi thought with an internal sigh as she consulted the map, and it was only an hour or two's ride south; the next closest town was at least four hours away. It'd also have more inns and couriers at its disposal than a village like Woolton, and possibly the messenger birds Dryden had mentioned.

She turned to Van, who was leaning against Dilly, and bit her lip. He still looked pale and worn, but also as if he was hardly going to let something silly like blood loss or exhaustion get in his way. How does Gremerton sound? He thought it over for a second, then nodded. How many gold pieces do you have?

She hesitated, making sure no one shady was listening nearby, then told him in a lowered voice, 

He whistled softly. That ought to get us rooms at a good inn there, easy. We can figure out what to do from there.Then let's get going.You're riding this time, he informed her.

She frowned. Not really, because I'm not the one with multiple burns, gashes, and other various wounds on the mend.

He cocked an eyebrow. Who said I wouldn't be riding?

Van got into the saddle, then held a gloved hand out to her. We ride double. Dilly should be fine. _Don't you dare blush, Hitomi. Riding double with the man you love down an autumn road may be the manifestation of every girl's romantic daydream, but it's no excuse to blush. Stop blushing. Stop blushing! For the love of all that is good, STOP. BLUSHING._

Van hoped desperately that Hitomi wouldn't notice how badly he was blushing. Of all the stupid, stupid,_ stupid_ ideas he'd_ ever _had, this was quickly and gleefully clawing its way to the top. And Hitomi wasn't supposed to go along with it!

Hitomi knew Van had a point; plus they'd go faster if they both rode, and making an issue out of this... it was a bad idea. So she tried not to let her thoughts get away from her--her success varied--as she took his hand and was pulled into the saddle in front of him. Two arms, bandaged but capable, picked up the reins on either side.

Van asked, utterly oblivious to the fact that, what with Hitomi's back flush against his chest, any speaking resulted in a pleasant rumble making its way up her spine.

Hitomi, who was most definitely _not_ oblivious to such things, managed to choke out a and twisted the horse's mane in her fingers so she had something to hold onto. With or without conversation, it promised to be a very interesting ride.

They set off down the road, both tense and wordless, until finally Hitomi couldn't take the roaring silence anymore and asked, So what do we do now?I want to find out how they're sedating the dragons, and stop it, Van said decisively. It'd be best to keep whatever plunder they took from the last caravan from reaching them, but the chances of pulling that off aren't very good.What about money? Dryden gave me enough to get me here, then both of us back to the castle, but we'll need supplies if we're running around the wilderness indefinitely. And we'd need another horse, there's no way we could ride double the entire time. Dilly would drop dead. Although Hitomi did have to admit there were certain perks to riding double...

We can send a messenger bird to Dryden, and he'll send us more. It'll take a day or two to get here, but we can use the time to see if there are any rumors about. He thought Hitomi had sighed a bit, and remembered that she was only here until this mess was over. Of course she'd want to head home as soon as possible. I won't let this drag out, Van said abruptly. You'll be home soon.

Hitomi squirmed in the saddle--something that did _absolutely nothing_ to help calm his raging hormones--and managed to twist around enough to look at him. I'm not worried about that, she told him frankly. Well, I am, but I can deal with it. I'm just wondering how far this is going to go.The war? A nod. If we can put a stop to it ourselves, it shouldn't even start. If we can't... Van trailed off partially because he didn't know, and partially because the answers his imagination supplied him weren't ones he wanted to think about.

The roaring silence settled over them both once more, but this time, neither felt like breaking it.

...:...

Sometimes Dryden Fassa wondered where on Gaea his altruistic streak had come from. His mother had been a beautiful, vapid, self-important lady, and was currently residing in their summer home on a pension that paid for as many dresses, jewels, and good-looking manservants as she could want. His father was the soul of business, taking joy only in making money.

So where had this selfless bit of his soul come from, and why the hell wouldn't it leave him alone? It made him do reckless things, such as hand his worldly goods over to cycloptic midgets so they could repair a machine he didn't even own. Granted, Van had caught his attention years ago: he'd kept an eye on Fanelian politics ever since the heir to the throne vanished on the dragon-hunting rite, and noted with interest as the little nation went from degeneracy to carrying more clout than most.

Maybe he was a sucker for underdogs, and if any member of royalty was an underdog, it would have to be the kid whose family kept dropping like flies, and instead of becoming the irresponsible playboy prince he could have been if Folken had taken the throne, had been shoved into the role of reigning monarchy by the seat of his pants.

And maybe it was that soft spot for the orphan king that made him get out of bed when the servant informed him (at a repulsively late--or early--hour) that a messenger bird had just arrived from Gremerton. None of his people there had reason to send him one, but if Hitomi had successfully saved the kid's ass, it made sense for them to head out to the nearest big city.

After pulling on his trademark coat and pulling back his hair, Dryden slouched his way to the mews, found the bird, and carefully freed the small leather cylinder from its leg. It was from Van or Hitomi, all right: he'd sealed it with the special compound they'd developed. The only way to dissolve it was with another compound only Dryden had. He gave the sealing powder only to people he trusted, and they were few and far between. Hitomi had carried a small bottle of it with her.

Once in the study, Dryden waited until the servant finished lighting the lamps, then removed a vial from one of his many pockets and carefully sprinkled some on the seal around the cylinder's lid. After a moment, it fell off, and he pulled the scrap of parchment out, squinting at the hurried, untidy scrawl.

_Dryden--_

Basram is using drugged dragons. Hitomi and I going to destroy store of sedative and find out what the stolen goods are for. Send money for supplies and another horse to Bent Tree Inn, Gremerton. Reinforce border guard. Woolton was attacked, send soldiers. Asturia and Freid need to be warned.

Van

(Somewhere deep down, Van probably had the gift of writing with depth and beauty. Most royals did. In that regard, though, he seemed to be something of a late bloomer.)

Drugged dragons, Dryden thought grumpily, did not spell good things for Fanelia. And again, it wasn't like he could send storms of troops to wipe out Basram and their substance-abusing ways. Initiating anything would shift the blame to Fanelia for the war, but if two people just happened to, say, blow up a storehouse of Basramu sedatives, then get the hell out of there, it would buy them time to plan while Basram decided _their_ next move. If Basram complained to anyone, it'd beg the question of _why_ they had a stockpile of sedative in the first place.

_I suppose this prolongs my life expectancy a bit too,_ he thought with grim humor. _His majesty hasn't realized that I dumped his precious little oracle into the wilderness all by her lonesome self, or if he has, he's too busy brandishing his sword at Basram to schedule my execution right now._

Van was right, though: Asturia and Freid needed to be warned. Cesario and Daedalus were more likely to side with Basram and probably knew of everything already; Zaibach was still in chaos. The empire had collapsed on itself with the death of Dornkirk and the elimination of its armies, and now it went through governments like Van went through ceramics. There was no point in notifying them.

Dryden's glasses were pushed out of place as he slipped fingers under them to pinch the bridge of his nose, then rub at his eyes. He was starting to understand why Van looked the way he did: a rebuilding nation like Fanelia never slept, and neither could its ruler, not until relative peace and normalcy was restored. And now with a war coming...

Though his father had always eyed the wealth of royalty with eyes and mouth watering, Dryden didn't envy them in the slightest, especially not at a time like this. Grumbling, he called for a servant and told him to arrange for a courier.

...:...  
_Go back to the castle._

Go after Basram.

The two options were written on a piece of paper in opposite corners, and as Hitomi watched with misgivings, Van pulled the pendant over his head. _I don't know how I let him convince me of these things,_ she thought irately. They had reached Gremerton and gotten adjacent rooms at the Bent Tree Inn. Over dinner in the common room, she'd pointed out that maybe going back to the palace was a better option, because they could talk with Dryden and send messages to their allies, and figure out their next move with input from others. There was additional security in the capitol, and if there was to be war, he'd have to be there to martial troops.

Van had given her words thought, and came up with the _brilliant_ idea that they dowse for an answer. It was simple, he had explained. All they had to do was write their two options down, then hang the pendant between the two and see which way it swung. Which sounded a lot like fortunetelling to her.

_But it isn't really fortunetelling, _an internal voice argued._ I'm asking which one is a better idea, and clearly, something's got an agenda for us, and that something should give an answer._

Here goes nothing, she said under her breath, then put her hand over Van's, eyes on the pendant. It swayed a little, then hung perfectly still. _Where should we go now?_

After a moment, the pendant swung towards the corner that read, _Go after Basram._

Van seized the quill he'd borrowed and wrote hastily in the empty corners, _Look for the sedative storehouse_ and _Find out what they're doing with the stolen goods._ Hitomi gave him a glare, but asked, _What should we do in Basram?_

Find out what they're doing with the stolen goods.

Well, that's that. Hitomi let go and sat back, pushing her hair out of her face. She'd been afraid that something would go wrong, that some terrible vision would appear, but it had been about as mundane as possible when asking for divine advice. When she looked up, Van had tipped water out of his glass onto the paper and was smudging the ink until it was unreadable. _Of course, a paper that says stuff like Go after Basram and Look for the sedative storehouse would kinda be a giveaway. Can't leave any traces, not now..._

...:...

Hitomi was having a relatively normal dream for once, in which nothing made sense and people did ridiculous things. And then with a snap, things shifted.

Now she stood in darkness. Grayish light was creeping over the horizon, and as it did so, she started to notice things around her. For one thing, she was clothed in rags, but they were rags of some sort of finery. The pendant gleamed a little too brightly over them.

The light grew brighter, drawing her surroundings into definition. She stood in ruins--ruins of more finery, toppled columns, crumbling archways, cracked streets: an entire city before her, newly destroyed. Black scorch marks and soot left cancerous blotches over white--now graying--marble. Where miracles of architecture had once stood, there were piles of shattered stone and gilt, with thin dust blowing over it in the cold wind.

Everything she knew, everything she cared for: it was all dead.

Her eyes blurred, and sorrow broke like a wave over her, swamping her mind with pain, anguish, guilt--but most of all, loss. She'd cried before, but now, she cried so hard it hurt, sobs threatening to shake her to pieces, gasps for breath that tore at her throat, and a terribly lonely, terribly agonized wail of the purest, fiercest grief she had ever known.

She had lost everything.

How? a small voice in her mind wondered helplessly. How did this happen? How did this happen to us?

And, perhaps in answer, she felt warmth. Then there was heat and light, fire, and it raced up the columns and through the ashes, greedy, clawing, insatiable. The flames roared higher and higher, eating her world away as walls were smashed and buildings buckled under the weight of an unseen force.

Fingers of fire raced nearer, catching at her skirt. She screamed in fear, and turned to find herself surrounded in flame, wreathed in it. There was no escape.

She did the only thing she could: she screamed.

Hitomi was still screaming when she sat bolt upright in bed, in a cold sweat, eyes wild. A few seconds later, her door had flown open and Van was at her side. All thoughts of keeping distance were lost in the sea of emotional pain, and still sobbing, she buried her face in his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as if it were the only thing anchoring her to this world. His arms wrapped around her, chin resting on the top of her head, as she cried, shivering uncontrollably.

Van couldn't understand what she was saying through her tears, or why she was so upset, but something--perhaps the fact that it was the middle of the night and normal people were asleep right now--told him she'd had a nightmare, worse than usual.

Her talk became a little more clear. ...and everything was gone, and--and--I was alone--everything was _dead--_and there was-- She shook harder. --there was _fire--_ Hitomi dissolved again, drowning in the sea of sorrow that nightmare had plunged her into, yanked this way and that by currents of guilt, solitude, shame, wrenching loss; reality was becoming a distant paradise--

Someone was speaking. She wasn't alone. No, she was in Van's arms. Van was there. ...don't be--scared, he was saying, I'm here, I won't let anything happen, you're not alone, you're fine, I won't leave you, it's all right, there's no fire, that was a dream, it wasn't real... And he had unknowingly tossed her a lifeline.

To Van's incredulity, Hitomi seemed to be calming down. He had done something right. Carefully, more than a little awkwardly, he rubbed her back, and she sighed, still trembling, her breath ragged and the occasional sob racking her frame. Neither knew how much time had passed when she whispered resting her forehead on his chest, Thank you, Van.I-It's nothing.

Hitomi realized that, after soaking his shirt, she still was clinging tightly to is, and let go reluctantly. Van apparently took this as a signal to let her go, for he did so, to her regret. You'll be all right? he asked.

she replied, wishing there was a way to get him to stay without--well, without implying anything. She had no intention of--of sleeping with him--but he made her feel safer, and she needed that right now. There was quiet for a long moment, and Hitomi felt sleep starting to call for her return.

Should I go? Van felt an idiot for even asking, when every male urge he'd ever had was adamantly in opposition, but he was better than that, and more importantly, Hitomi deserved better than that.

Naturally, she didn't help matters when she said sleepily, W-Why not?Because you said you wouldn't go, she yawned, and a king should keep his promises.

Van realized that he had a certain knack for getting into these situations. First the wings, now this... There was a chair in the corner. He got up and dragged it over, then sat in it. Fine. I'm right here, now go to sleep.I was just kidding. You can go to your room if you want.Just go to sleep, Hitomi.

She pulled the blankets around her a bit tighter, then glanced at him and frowned. Why do you always wear gloves?

He didn't answer.

The chair creaked as he shifted in it.

Why do you always wear gloves, Van?

There was a long silence, and Hitomi could have sworn she felt the temperature in the room drop. 

The chair creaked again, and footsteps made their way to the door. Good night, Hitomi, Van said, his voice soft, but not with warmth. There was a click as the door shut once more.

The room that had seemed almost too small and warm with Van there now seemed alarmingly cold and empty. Hitomi pushed herself up on her elbows, and stared into the darkness he left behind.  
...:...:...  
**_ All right, another chapter down! Hopefully you're all thoroughly confused. This is also a wee bit fluffy, in my opinion, but I'll be making up for that later. Anyone who's been around my writing for a while knows what I'm talking about--what can I say, it's my trademark of sorts. Anyway, lots of things will be explained in... hmmm... chapter six. And I mean _lots_ of things. So it will mostly make sense in a little while._**

As a quick FYI, I think you guys should know that I probably won't be working on this for about three weeks. There's a writing contest I plan on entering, and I want to finish my entry before my 19th birthday, which means about 20 pages in as many days. Granted, I wrote the first section, which was ten pages, in one all-nighter, so I don't know. I could be done by next week. We'll see how things shakedown, ne?

As usual, thank you all for your lovely reviews, and I'll see you all in a couple weeks!


	4. Wings of Will

On Wings  
Chapter Four: Wings of Will

**_Disclaimer: As per usual, I still don't own Escaflowne or its respective characters. Please enjoy this story knowing I make not a single pretty penny from it._**

Also thought I'd add something... I noticed that a lot of you guys (the ones that review, anyway) are enjoying the fluff. All I have to say to that is, people, enjoy it while it lasts.

On with the show!  
  
...:...

_The power of an Atlantean will was not unknown: it was how they had carved out a nation mightier than any other, given birth to a Golden era, and even gave themselves wings. But there most people had stopped._

The sorcerers had not. Eager to master the laws of their world, and bend them to their own pleasing, they had built a device that would exact power from the very thought, the very desire, of a person. They called it the Atlantis Machine, and they called Tiore their champion. They told him of Aiyeth's impending marriage and how he could forge a destiny he and he alone would control, in which every desire could be granted. And desperate and afraid, Tiore allowed himself to be connected to the Atlantis Machine.

It was a matter of days just to partially unite him with the machine. Tiore was released, as an experiment, on Aiyeth's wedding day. The former guard arrived in time to halt the ceremony, but in a struggle, he was overcome by battle rage, and for a few minutes, chaos reigned as his mere thoughts shattered pillars and tossed men to the side like insects. In the turmoil the husband-to-be was killed along with many Atlanteans, others mortally wounded or seriously injured. Then Tiore was knocked unconscious from behind, and thrown in the dungeon with a heavy dose of sleeping elixir.

Aiyeth was distraught, not only because of what had transpired in the past few days, but because in the aftermath of the wedding, she was plunged into vision after vision of more destruction and death on an even wider scale. Under the cover of the night, she slipped out of the palace and went to the sorcerers herself, and beseeched them to help Tiore and put an end to their experiments. They assured her that every effort was being made to rectify the situation.

Their way of rectifying the situation, however, was to instigate riots over recent political strife, and in the confusion, break Tiore out of prison. Still under the sleeping draught's influence, Tiore stayed unconscious for the next few days. He had no awareness of the violence raging in the streets; no knowledge of the fear now ruling Aiyeth, both for her country and for her love; and absolutely no idea that as he slept, the sorcerers were binding him even more tightly to the Atlantis Machine.  
  
...:...__

It was remarkable, Hitomi thought sourly, how the day before, the weather had been perfectly fine, blue skies with the occasional cloud--and now, now that they needed to buy supplies and get out of Gremerton, there was a near-torrential downpour.

At least Dryden had given her a cloak, and wisely sent one with the courier who had arrived around noon. Now two hooded figures moved through the streets, taking little notice of the mud caking around their boots; they shuffled from stall to stall, occasionally stopping to pass coin for goods. Not a word passed between the two that didn't relate to their purchases.

In fact, Hitomi could count all the words Van had said this morning on her fingers. One hand's worth.

It wasn't that he was angry, but she'd seen this mood written on his face before: he was troubled by something, and upset that it was troubling him in the first place. It was the look he'd had after Allen had told him Fanelia had been burned to the ground, and they'd been waiting together onboard the _Crusade._ His eyes had been just as dark then, and just as hooded.

What on _Earth--_well, Gaea, she supposed--had she said to him, though? She'd asked him last night about his gloves, and why he always wore them. And since then he'd been brooding like the rainstorm overhead. It wasn't fresh anger that practically radiated from him, though--it had the same musty, poignant feel as an old bloodstain or a broken bone that had healed wrong. It wasn't even entirely anger, or it didn't feel like it.

But whatever it was, it had darkened him in a way she couldn't quite define. Van had always had a vitality, a magnetism that drew people to him--he was, in a word, dynamic. But now it was like the shutters on a lantern had slid shut, almost. When he spoke, his voice was distant; his eyes were shadowed, and focused somewhere beyond the walls of their reality.

One almost felt like shaking him, slapping him, anything to snap him out of it. However, one did not bitch slap the king of Fanelia in his own country, regardless of how much one might be tempted to do so. Moreover, it didn't seem like it would actually help the situation any. Instead, Hitomi settled for irately playing with Dilly's reins as she led the mare through the market's streets.

They had bought all the supplies on the list they'd drawn up the night before, except for one thing... We still need to get a horse, Hitomi said to Van's back. It didn't reply, and neither did he: not even a sign that he'd heard her, not a nod, not a shrug, not a single backwards glance. However, after a few minutes of slogging through the rain, he did come to a halt in front of a horse merchant, so perhaps there was hope for communication yet.

He said something to the merchant, whose eyes sharpened in recognition of someone who wouldn't be fooled by a nag, no matter how well-groomed it had been at the last minute. It was Hitomi's turn to let her attention wander, and she cast her eyes around the marketplace, watching people fight through the mud and the crowds; it seemed the weather had affected everyone's mood, and not for the better.

A little boy was looking around frantically, searching the mass of grownups. Mother? _Mother?_

Hitomi bit her lip.

He couldn't have been more than four, and yet nobody looked down, just shoving past. Then he slipped and fell into the mud, now thoroughly filthy from head to toe. Sitting up, he started to cry.

Hitomi's face turned cloudy, and she walked over to Van and handed him the reins, saying tersely, Here. I'll be right back. Then she turned on her heel and made her way over to the little boy, dropping to her knees in front of him. He turned big, watery eyes on her, surprised out of his sobs. My name's Hitomi, she told him gently. Did you lose your mother? He nodded silently, trying to scrub at his face with dirty hands. She smiled and used a corner of her cloak to wipe some of the mud off of his face, then pulled the hood of his cloak back up over his head. What's your name? he whispered.

She couldn't help smiling. Where'd you last see your mother, Erram?

He pointed. By the blanket woman's store.

_There was a weaver's stall a little ways down that street he's pointing to, he's probably talking about that. _Well, Erram, if I pick you up, you can look for your mother better. Is that all right? He nodded again, and she carefully lifted him onto her shoulders. You can hold onto my hood, okay? We'll go to the blanket woman's store. Erram didn't say anything, but small hands clenched the fabric of her hood tightly, and she kept a firm hold on his ankles. Turning around, she found Van and the merchant watching her; the merchant was amused, but there was something in Van's eyes that made her swallow nervously. I'm taking him to look for his mother, she said loudly enough for them to hear. I'll be back in a few minutes.

Unbeknownst to Hitomi, Van's eyes followed her until she'd been swallowed by the crowd.

When Hitomi returned, Van was waiting with reins in each hand, and passed those of the new mare over to her. The mare followed obediently as they wormed their way out of the marketplace and through the city, headed for the road. After another stretch of silence, surprisingly, Van spoke. Did you find his mother? He thought he saw a smile. She wasn't too far away. Then she held her hand in front of her, frowning thoughtfully, and pushed back her hood. It's stopped raining. Van let his hood fall back as he looked up at the clouds, then glanced at Hitomi, morose thoughts starting to fall into darkness.

...:...

It rained intermittently throughout the day, coming and going like the memories that pushed at the edges of his thoughts. Van knew he was being cold to Hitomi, and he would have said something, but he had the feeling any conversation now would either devolve into an argument or die just as quickly as it had started. Neither of them seemed to be feeling quite the same Halcyon bliss as that which, for the past few days, had numbed them to the grim future ahead.

We should stop soon.

Hitomi's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife, and he straightened, looking over at her. We should stop soon, she repeated. It's getting dark. And if we're sore and exhausted from riding all day long, if we come across any Basramu soldiers, the most we can do is fall on them.There isn't a town for another couple hours. Now he turned his eyes back to the road.

I'm fine with camping.

He nodded, and returned to his thoughts.

...:...

Hitomi chewed on a strip of dried fruit thoughtfully, studying the plants on the ground before her. The most predominant seemed like clover, but with spade-shaped leaves and darker markings. Yet another reminder that she wasn't on Earth.

At least her mare seemed to enjoy it, which was why Hitomi had settled on the name Clover. She liked to think she had the good taste not to name her horse after an old enemy, but Van's dislike of Dilandau was more than understandable. After all, the semi-guy had razed his country to the ground, so as far as Hitomi was concerned, Van was more than entitled to declare a Fanelian Dilandau Hate Day if so he chose.

What he was _not_ entitled to do, however, was give her the silent treatment. Yes, she understood that she actually had very little to do with it, and that he wasn't angry with her. However, practically twenty-four straight hours of conversational minimalism would try anyone's patience.

It didn't help that the ground was still damp. They'd had the foresight to prepare for it, but it was still uncomfortable. At least the fire was helping dry their clothes--they'd bought a few logs and kept them dry, and once they'd stopped for camp, Van had started the fire while Hitomi gathered a few more logs put them to dry under a waterproof cloth. They had each managed to dig up some sort of dinner; Hitomi had just finished the last of hers at the same time as she'd unloaded and taken care of the last of Clover's packs. Turning, she found Van's eyes on her from across the fire, and froze when they didn't leave.

Van had been vacillating since she'd first asked; and now, as warm light played over the curves of her surprised face, he knew the answer.

I'm... sorry, Hitomi, he said, finally averting his eyes.

she prompted.

he said shortly, and it was enough. It's not--not you--

Now she looked at the ground, still standing by her mare. I know.

There was a long, pregnant pause. Should he tell her? It would definitely be crossing a line--but damn it all, he was sick of lines. When... my brother disappeared, my mother was... I don't know. Something in her broke. She'd sit by the window and wait for him to come back, and not move for days, until someone came and told us they'd found his arm, and his sword, and that was it. Then she stayed in the family graveyard for days.

Hitomi sucked in a breath, and walked over to sit by his side.

A few weeks later, I saw her leave the castle, and I followed.

In the dancing flames, Hitomi saw a little boy peering around a corner after a stately woman. Varie's eyes were as distant as Van's had been before, and she seemed to notice little as she loosed her jacket and let her wings spring free. The young Van's eyes widened, and he clenched his fists, wincing as wings pushed out of his back as well. Varie didn't notice him beneath her as she soared upwards.

She flew to the mountains where Folken was last seen.

Varie was still airborne as she glided high over a forest, but the five-year-old Van was struggling, unseen, wings shuddering dangerously.

I--my wings gave out.

She saw him shriek a single word as he fell, over and over again: But Varie flew on.

My hands got pretty ripped up from trying to catch onto--anything, and when I hit the ground, there were rocks...

Small white wings disintegrated around Van's form, lying on the ground, unconscious. His hands were torn almost beyond recognition, blood dying snowy feathers crimson. Then the fire returned to a normal fire in her sight, the visions gone.

Balgus found me a day or so later. He said he'd followed the feathers, and I guess he saw it coming all along. Mother hadn't been the same since Father died. He glanced down at his gloved hand. She never came back. It took a while for my hands to heal all the way, and people kept asking about them until I just started wearing gloves all the time. There was a pause. That's why.

Hitomi turned the story, the visions, over in her mind, processing everything as painstakingly as possible, unaware Van was watching. Why didn't she say anything? Did she think it was stupid, that something like a scar could bring about memories so painful he had to hide them from himself? Did she think he was a baby, for letting something like this get to him?

Hitomi could not think of a single thing to say. Not a word. Everything sounded too--trite, too cliched. _Sorry, Van, that sucks? You aren't alone? It's over now? Beauty is only skin deep? _There were no words for a moment like this.

_Actions speak louder than words._

Van had come to the conclusion that Hitomi thought he was a moron when, to his astonishment, he felt his hand being picked up in hers. Slender fingers started to tug at the glove, and he felt every muscle tense up. She must have noticed, for she stopped and asked, not looking at him, May I?

He could only nod wordlessly.

The glove came off with ease, and for the first time in years, someone besides himself was looking at his hand.

Hitomi studied it carefully, looking at the back first. The lines there were thin, a spiderweb of lighter flesh, jagged like lightning. Along the muscle between his thumb and forefinger, the skin was roughened, probably from long hours spent sparring. She slowly turned over his hand. The scars here were much worse; uneven lines crisscrossed over his palm, some raised, some cut deeply into flesh, some white, some dark. Hitomi traced the paths of a few with a finger, deep in thought. Finally, she asked, Does it still hurt?

Looking at her, Van saw the girl who would drop everything to help a little boy find his way home; the girl who had thought his wings were beautiful; the girl who didn't flinch at his scars, not because they weren't ugly, but because she cared more about how he'd gotten them. And he knew that, whether she was on the Mystic Moon or here on Gaea, even if she did forget him and everything that had happened, even if he never saw her again--no matter what, Hitomi would never truly leave him.

Not anymore, he answered simply.

Something in his voice made Hitomi look up, and once again, she found his eyes on her. Both of them knew he wasn't talking about the scars on his hands.

There--in his eyes--she'd seen it that strong once before, when she had last left Gaea, and hints and glimmers of it since then--what _was_ it, though, and why was she afraid?

_You know exactly why,_ her sensible voice reminded her. _Because you could get very, very badly hurt if anything happens between you two, and what you're seeing in him now isn't helping maintain the distance.  
_  
But somehow, even with the quickening of her heartbeat, the rush of blood in her ears, she couldn't make herself look away. Van had the kind of eyes a girl could get drunk off of, and she'd been hooked.

Breathing had become something of a necessary evil for the king of Fanelia, given that he couldn't think of anything, or look at anything, but the one girl he couldn't have. Oh, but did he _want_ to--others bespoke of Hitomi's ability to calm anyone's heart; funny, then, how his was pounding. All he had to do was lean forward and pray, but--

But then both of them would be in too deep.

When he could have happily drowned in her eyes, though, it didn't seem like such a bad way to go.

Then a horse's shrill cry split through the air, followed by another. Both Dilly and Clover pawed at the ground anxiously, and the rustling of bushes told them that some small animal had been approaching, but was well on its way out now.

Unfortunately, the damage was done: Hitomi had jumped at least three feet in the air, and Van had done so as well. Luckily for him, he'd been trained to the point where it was reflex to pull his legs under him, making it appear as if he had actually_ intended_ to jump to his feet. Both of them hastily went over to the horses, hoping desperately the other wouldn't see their blush, and thinking that the other was actually quite cute when his or her face flushed like that.

...:...

**_  
_  
**_If Hitomi hadn't been in a dream, she would have scowled; sadly, it was somewhat difficult to scowl when one's subconscious didn't really have a face. Alysen's voice hadn't interrupted her sleep for a few days now, and she'd enjoyed the break. What is it now?It's about the pendant. You need to take it back to Earth as soon as possible.It was made to amplify a person's powers and awake any dormant ones, among other things, but Gaea doesn't exactly need that. That's part of why your wishes were coming true here, and your dowsing was so much easier.I... guess that makes sense, she said hesitatingly._

**It does. But it's too dangerous on Gaea, and Earth needs it, so get it back soon.But I gave it to Van.And that's cute, but I don't care. Wake up and find that charm of yours, the dragon wants to talk to you.  
****  
**It almost felt as if her eyes were being forced to crack open, and she sat up with a grumble, wishing the sky were a bit lighter. Then her mind processed Alysen's last words, and scrambling over to the packs, she recklessly dug through them, searching for the charm. If the dragon wanted to talk to her, it had to be about her family--

_There!_ The heavily embroidered bag gave a thin jingle as she yanked it out and immediately felt the warmth of power crackle beneath her fingers.

_You ought to keep this nearer._ The dragon's voice was stern in her mind, and she cringed.

_I am sorry,_ she said sincerely. _I have been--Save your excuses, for they do not interest me. There have been two earthquakes since you left._ Hitomi gasped. _Your family is fine, _the dragon informed her haughtily. _I have shielded any nearby who share your blood. Your house still stands, but if you wish to keep the rest of your town intact, you will return with the pendant quickly.What does the pendant have to do with anything?_ she asked, confused and irritated. There was a snort, and then the snap of magic faded.

Hitomi let out a strangled yell and threw the fertility charm at the nearest tree. Why won't they _tell me anything?_

Van had sat up the minute he heard someone going through the packs, then watched as Hitomi stared at the strange little bag for a minute or two and, oddly, proceeded to hurl it into a tree, looking infuriated. From her general performance, he gathered she'd received some manner of divine message that had been a little too cryptic for her tastes. Perhaps they're worried you won't take the news well, he suggested.

Hitomi jumped, then scowled fiercely at him. Of _course_ I'd take it well, she snapped. They just like being--mysterious, and--and--_enigmatic,_ and all that, because I _hate it._ Getting to her feet, she brusquely slapped any dirt off of her clothes and, grumbling, retrieved the small bag from the base of the tree.

What's that? he asked, trying to change the subject.

Hitomi looked at the bag and blanched, then blushed an alarmingly bright hue of red. N-nothing--nothing important, she muttered, shoving it into a pocket. It's a charm... from a shrine to a dragon who's watching over my family while I'm gone, so it can tell me if anything happens.A dragon? Van hadn't recalled her saying anything about dragons on the Mystic Moon.

She shrugged. Or at least its spirit. I never asked where it came from, she added, reading his look correctly. There are a lot of dragons in Earth folklore, so it's not necessarily Gaean.I see. If a dragon's spirit was protecting Hitomi's family, that explained why she'd suddenly been willing to come back. Have the earthquakes stopped? Hitomi said distantly. They're getting worse. She stared at the sky, and seemed almost to shrink, or fade, a little. He could barely hear her whisper, I hope they're all right.

And Van was reminded that, like it or not, Hitomi had a family, and friends, and another life on the Mystic Moon, one that he had no part of. It was the life she belonged to, and the sooner they solved this mess with Basram, the sooner she would be back home. In the meantime, all he could do was be there for her, and hopefully end this war before it started.

I promised you we'd finish this as quickly as possible, and I don't intend to break my word, he said quietly.

I'm--I'm _not_ worried about how long--You have every right to be, and hiding it does no good.

Hitomi bit her lip. Van was right; she'd been burying her fear for her family in other thoughts since she'd first arrived. However, long ago she'd half-demanded, half-pleaded with Van to stop depending on her, and though he'd never said as much in turn, she knew better than to start. They both knew she would be leaving indefinitely after this; she wanted to do so with a minimum of collateral damage. Relying on Van for strength she could drag out of herself would only make it harder to eventually stand on her own.

So Hitomi swallowed and ducked her head. I'm fine, she said in a voice that almost didn't shake.

...:...

Dryden glanced up wearily as the study's door swung open, keeping one eye on the stacks of parchment piled on the desk. While he couldn't sign for Van, he'd made steps towards introducing something like organization to the room, and the last thing he needed was for his precious work to be blown apart in a draft.

Merle slid inside, letting out a low whistle. This place looks totally different.

Dryden grinned wryly. No wonder his Majesty hasn't been getting enough sleep. It must have taken him half a day just to locate the papers he needed. What Van needed was a secretary, or a librarian; someone to do what he was doing now. The papers had been sorted by issue, and right now he was translating the legal jargon into plain speech and attaching a layman's-terms summary to every document. It was at least something to do while they awaited news. But I don't think you're here to admire my housekeeping. Merle examined her claws, then sat abruptly in the other chair.

Dryden set paperweights on his piles, partially to save them from any accidental swipes, and partially so he could actually see the catgirl over them. Spit it out, kiddo.

Merle's hard blue eyes met his, and she asked bluntly, Can Van and Hitomi get married?

Dryden winced and slumped back in his chair, then polished his glasses on his shirt, trying to stall until he could think of a suitably sugarcoated answer. There's a lot to consider when it comes to Van and matrimony, he said vaguely. You know why. It was sometimes hard to remember that Merle was fifteen now, and much more difficult to fool. Sure, you haven't been here that much, but you've seen how he looks at the Mystic Moon. And I don't think Hitomi came back for him out of fiery hatred.No, no she didn't. How could he break this to Merle? Fanelia's got political clout, especially after Zaibach fell apart. However, it's still unstable. I don't think this country knows how lucky they are, he said darkly. You've been in Asturia, and you've seen the castle at Palas. This is a shack compared to that, and it's because his Majesty's been putting as much as possible in the treasury, not in his palace. Most royals would have spent the surplus on new toys and shiny new towers. He's well aware that right now, if Fanelia gets one bad harvest year, your nation could starve. The money's being put aside for something like that, but right now you don't have enough to feed the masses for a year.

Merle nodded grimly. Go on.It would be in the nation's best interest to do what Grava Aston did with Millerna and I. Something flashed in Dryden's eyes as his ex-wife's name crossed his lips, but he continued. Find a fabulously wealthy family, and marry Van off to the daughter. The daughter gets protection and palace life, and Van gets access to funds Fanelia needs.He'll never do that! Merle protested.

Dryden rolled his eyes, saying sarcastically, For some reason, I think his Majesty actually _cares_ about this country. If you land in dire straits, he just might. There's an obscure law that says the king cannot be married until he's eighteen cycles old, but that doesn't prohibit betrothals. He frowned. On the other hand, if Fanelia makes it through a couple more good years, his Majesty should be set financially. Sadly, there's still the problem with Hitomi to deal with.What's wrong with Hitomi? Merle demanded. People know her as a hero from the war!They heard of the girl from the Mystic Moon that saw things and helped win the war, he corrected. That's the Hitomi Gaea knows. But as far as politics go... There are too many alliances that could be made with another country for Van to marry someone whose only ties are with the Mystic Moon. If she had a nation backing her, or a powerful family, it'd make all the sense in the world. He laughed shortly. Once, my father considered grafting her onto our family as something like a mistress for one of us. But she's an unblooded girl from, as far as the general populace knows, the cursed Mystic Moon, and hero or no, she brings nothing to the table but second sight and a very winning personality. The most his Majesty can legitimately do to raise her status is have her declared the Eye of the Gods.The what now?Remember the Plaktu Priests of Freid? Dryden asked her. The chief one is the Voice of the Gods. Asturia's High Priest of Jichia is the Hand of the Gods. Freid has the Voice, Asturia has the Hand, and Fanelia has the Eye. They're people who gain knowledge through supernatural means and subsequently guide the ruling house. Fanelia hasn't had an Eye of the Gods in decades, but Hitomi is more than qualified. She'd get some respect, at least, and a position to wield. However, it wouldn't be enough to justify a marriage.That's so... calculated, Merle said after a moment.

When you're responsible for a country, _everything_ has to be calculated. He shrugged. But in answer to your question, unless, say, the gods themselves descend to declare Hitomi Grand Poo-bah of Gaea, they probably can't get married.

Merle's shoulders drooped, and she stared at the ground. He's never going to be happy without her.

Dryden sighed. I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but monarchs are rarely happy people. At her confused look, he elaborated. You're responsible for a nation, and anything its people do. His Majesty was lucky he had a few years where Folken was the heir, but still--royalty can't put a toe out of line without offending someone who could be crucial to running the country. Your citizens will blame you for everything, then die trying to protect you. Subjects can afford to be selfish ever so often, but kings can't. You're born for your country, you live for your country, you marry for your country, and you die for your country. You spend your life being perpetually watched, guarded, scrutinized, tested, and judged, and as hard as you try, you can never make everyone happy. So help you if you break even the most archaic of laws, because if the king doesn't follow his own laws, why do his subjects have to? And most monarchs don't have to rebuild their nation, or deal with superstitions such as Draconians being cursed demons. He smiled bitterly. A life fit for a king, indeed.

Before Merle could think of something to say to that, there was a knock at the door. Dryden called.

An aide bustled in, looking harried. Lord Dryden, a caravan of Tribeland traders has come through the gates, and the Shanu Denedra is with them.

The merchant scowled at the mention of the Tribeland leader, and wondered grumpily what other surprises would come before Van returned. Tell the Head of Hospitality to prep the castle as much as possible, he said, getting to his feet. Merle, we can continue this conversation later.

She shook her head, clearly troubled. There's no need.

...:...

Hitomi and Van had passed the border between Asturia and Basram around ten o'clock, and in sharp contrast to the day before, the weather had cleared, though a crisp chill made both pull their cloaks around them a bit tighter. Steady conversation kept their minds off the cold; Hitomi told Van about the wonders of modern medicine and technology, and he filled her in on the political structures of Gaea. They talked about the benefits and downsides of science, and whether Gaea needed it or not. She described her track meets, he his plans for further improvements for Fanelia.

It was afternoon when they saw the village, but they'd been riding past fields for an hour or so, and apparently someone has seen them coming, because a figure was running down the road towards them. Keep going until they're close enough to hear, Van said lowly, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

His caution was unnecessary, though: it was no more than a frantic woman, red-faced and breathless. She could barely even speak, but she managed to wheeze out, _Son--a healer--leg--Is someone hurt? Hitomi asked quickly. The woman nodded. Your son hurt his leg?Bleedin'--real bad--it won't stop--healer's in next town---Where is he?--house--red door--white shutters--Come on, Van! Hitomi urged Clover into a run, one which jarred her bones and she'd still feel the next morning._

What are you _doing,_ Hitomi? he yelled as he drew alongside her, his years of riding making it easier to manage the pace.

The kid needs help!You think you can do more than anyone in the village?I'm certified by the Red Cross in First Aid!It means I know some emergency procedures! Mom made me take the class before she let me babysit! She glared at him. Besides, the woman said the healer's in the next town, and I took care of _you,_ didn't I?This could be a trap!How would anyone know we'd be coming? Besides, if this were a trap, I think I'd have seen some blood raining from the sky before we left, or something!

_She's got a point there,_ he thought darkly.

They thundered into the cluster of cottages, coming to an abrupt halt in front of the one with a red door and white shutters. Hitomi almost broke a strap pulling a pack free, then burst in, Van trailing behind with an eye to any sudden movements besides hers.

It took them both a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dim interior, but ears needed no such time, and they clearly heard the shouts of surprise. Van, explain, Hitomi said briskly, looking around until her eyes found the boy. He looked to be about ten and was lying on a bed, the sheets stained thick crimson. His left leg was twisted wrong below the knee, and she was forced to swallow bile when she saw bone breaking the skin.

_What do I do? What do I do? How do I treat this?_

First, figure out the extent of the damage--maybe you can use your second sight for that, so you don't have to probe for anything--and then go from there.

The boy looked at her with wide eyes as she knelt by him, shivering from shock. _That_ she at least could help: Someone put a blanket over him. Chewing her lip, she closed her eyes and used her inner eye to examine the wound. It was worse than she'd thought, and panic rose again in her. If she set the bone, she'd put him through excruciating pain, unless they poured vino down the boy's throat, and even then--he'd severed an artery, how was she going to fix that? What could she do?

_Your wishes will always come true._

Hitomi gasped, eyes flying open. No, that--that couldn't be right--she'd get herself into more trouble, and who knew what it would do to the boy--

_Just--try to take away the pain, and maybe if that works--_

Hitomi's hands fisted, then opened, and holding a hand over the wreck of a leg, she focused all of her will on lifting the pain. The boy looked at her in surprise, and part of her shook inside: she could feel his nerves numbing, relinquishing their sensitivity. Does that--feel better? she asked, voice tight. He nodded, pale.

_Maybe I can heal it--I stopped the pain, I can--if I believe, I can--_

Moving slowly, she ignored her quailing stomach and pulled the leg back into its proper position, fighting for control of the nerves--both the boy's and her own. If she focused hard enough, willed hard enough, she could--she could fix this.

And she tried. Hitomi ignored the murmur of voices behind her, and Van trying to keep them quiet; she ignored the slickness of the blood now crusting under her fingers; she ignored the ache of her knees, and spun her thoughts into a single point, willing it to happen as she deigned.

The torn muscles and bone began to knit together, but slowly. A moment's distraction, and they stopped.

Hitomi braced herself on the bed frame as the breath left her body, almost caving in on herself. __ she whispered through gritted teeth, and concentrated on the flesh, the bone, the artery. _Mend,_ she ordered them. They feebly moved. _Mend!_ __

It wasn't enough. She didn't know what she was doing, and the power of her wishes wasn't enough to save this boy's life. Now shaking herself, Hitomi bowed her head, searching her mind for a solution.

**_It was made to amplify a person's powers and awake any dormant ones, among other things..._**

_The pendant!_

She straightened and twisted to half-face the others. Van, I need the pendant!

He didn't argue, instead pulling the chain over his head and dropping it into her free hand. Hitomi clenched it tightly, then focused her mind once again. _This boy's leg _will_ be healed, _she thought silently, concentrating on that. _It will obey my command. It _will_ heal. I will it to be so._

And then, focusing even harder than before, she applied her will.

Nobody in the room could really explain what happened later. For the boy's aunt and father, they saw the walls of the cottage bending and not much else, struggling to keep their footing on a ground that shifted beneath them. Van, however, saw much more, for he was watching Hitomi the entire time.

The boy's leg was healed in a flash. Hitomi sprang back as if she'd been burned, and to his astonishment, her hair was growing--

_What on Gaea is happening?_

Hitomi saw the world shifting. There were cries behind her and her heart wrenched. The room went silent. She thought she saw Van's boot stumble into her vision.

_I'm not pretty enough--I hate my hair--_

It rolled out, growing past her shoulders, down her back--

Van tried to find something solid to hold onto as the world rippled around them all. The room lightened, then darkened, and Hitomi was on her hands and knees--

For an instant, he saw another girl on her hands and knees, but everything was different, and--were those _wings?_ Then it was gone_--_

Hitomi could _feel _her eyes changing color, ranging from all the colors she'd ever wished they were. Her body was changing, but she was panicking as her fingers turned long and slender--too much, no, she wanted them shorter--they shrank to stubs--

Fear was sending frozen lightning down her veins, and she panicked, a thousand urges and desires sweeping across her mind, and the world struggling to comply, and something inside her forcing it to--

_No--No, stop--_

She felt like she was going to drown in the floor--

_STOP!_

Time froze.

_NO--just put it back the way it was put it back put it back--_

The pendant flared, eclipsing any other light, and she felt power being drawn out from within her. Things were righting themselves--the ground was steadying--her eyes were the normal color again--

Then the power went out, before her hair could return to its normal length. The boy's leg was still healed. The cottage was just the same; the boy was fine, and she--

Hitomi was terrified.

Van watched her slowly raise her head, and look at him with green eyes paralyzed with fear. Then she crumpled, falling with a soft thud.

He darted forward and gathered her into his arms, searching her wrist for a pulse. It fluttered under his fingers, quick and faint, but beginning to slow. She was as pale as her charge, but he was awake, and she showed no signs of coming around.

The boy's father shuffled over, and Van looked up. The man looked at his son, then at the unconscious girl in his king's arms, and asked with honest, befuddled awe, Does that happen _ev'ry_ time she heals   
...:...:...

**_Yes, I know, it's a shorter chapter. I'm also having chapter insecurity because it feels a heckuva lot shorter than usual. Normally, the chapters run about twenty pages long, and this is seventeen, but I think that's still fairly decent... right?_**

Anyway, I know, I said I was working on that story for the competition, and honestly, I am. However, ever so often I'd get writer's block or just have to take a break (it's a rather depressing story) and I'd come and work on this. Haha. And now this chapter's done, but the story isn't. I still need to make a decision regarding character mortality for the third part. Once I make that decision, I'll finish it... but in the meantime, looks like you guys won't be suffering too much from a lack of updates.

Do keep in mind that I'll be heading off to college in less than a month, though, and I make no guarantees about update schedules then. I mean, wee ickle freshman me committed academic suicide by testing into 4th-year College Spoken Japanese, which is a really great class for me to have, since I have no idea what to expect out of a college class and all.

And on behalf of Japanese students everywhere: Fanfic authors, every time you use Japanese improperly in a fic, God kills a Japanese major. Which means I'm going to be eating it someday soon. But hopefully I'll finish this story beforehand.

As a final note, thanks to all my reviewers! Makes my day, takes my breath away, so on and so forth. My apologies for a shorter chapter, and I suspect the next one may be on the short side as well, but the sixth chapter shall make up for it (if all goes according to plan.)

Oh, and do know one thing: I don't do needless fluff. Van's hands are the way they are with good reason. What reason would that be? I'll let you speculate.


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